Top of the Tree
by CupcakeLoopy
Summary: "Well, fuck," was my very first thought. And maybe a few other curse words. Rated M for language. Self-insert OC.
1. I

**Top of the Tree**

**I**

_Death has always been a fascinating concept for us human beings._

The tires of our military Jeep stumbled on the hidden rocks of the desert we drove through. It was probably around a hundred degrees out in the dry heat. Our uniform stuck to our sweaty bodies as we sat patiently in our Jeep waiting to arrive at our location. We had sandy colored dirt and sweat smeared across our faces. We were tired after having finished a successful mission.

_What happens when you're dying?_

Lieutenant Jerry Mycroft was steering the wheel, occasionally chuckling at a joke or two one of my boys spluttered out. I was sitting in the passenger seat, turned to face the men sitting in the back, occasionally looking out a window or two; just to make sure. I snickered as Corporal Michael Carlson sarcastically commented on his partner's love life. I rolled my eyes. Men.

"Eyes on the road, Jerry," I comment as I myself turned back to face the front.

_Where do you go when you're dead?_

He gave me an easy smile, "Aye, Ma'am".

I briefly took off my helmet to brush back the bangs that were falling on my face, and re-do my ponytail; it wasn't an easy feat—having short curly hair and all. I put the helmet back in its place.

_I thought that after death there was nothing._

A shine appeared in my peripheral vision. I tensed slightly, but decided to not tell my men; it was too far away to be a threat.

Jerry continued to speed down the desert.

I saw a blur of movement.

"Slow down, Sergeant and keep a watch out—ya' don't know what might be in the dirt," I said quietly.

My mind was racing. Something wasn't right. It was too quiet.

"Understood, Captain," the men behind me noticed my sudden quietness—the shift in the air.

_I though that I'd forever be stuck in a void…_

Before I could bark out any orders, we hit a rock, or at least that's what I thought it was at first.

_Motionless…_

I saw white.

_Floating…_

My ears were ringing.

_Weightless…_

My head was pounding.

_Gone…_

I could distantly hear the men shrieking in pain.

_Gone…_

Burning. Burn. Burn.

_Nothing._

A mine.

_That's what I thought._

I got up. I'll rest when there's time—when we get back.

I chanted in my head: up, up, up. Later, later, later.

With a groan I stood up reaching for my M16A2 rifle. I started shooting at the unidentified men. Our attackers.

There had been, on total, five of us in the Jeep, including myself. I only saw two fighting back. Corporal Michael Carlson and Private Sean Joan. I gulped.

I hid behind a particularly large boulder and started shooting for our attackers. Bang—one down. Bang—bang—two down. Duck. Duck. Bang—missed.

Breath. Calm Down. Think.

I saw Carlson fall. Bang—dead.

I reached for my radio: "This is Captain Judith Moore from assault team B88. We've been ambushed. Requesting immediate backup,"

I returned to shooting. Their numbers kept increasing. Bang—dead.

I saw Joan get hit in the leg. I left my hiding spot and ran to him—firing on the way.

Shoot! Missed.

"Joan! You okay?" I shouted.

I shielded him with my body, proceeding to shoot at out attackers.

Bang, bang—dead, dead.

Good. Their numbers were decreasing.

"Captain! They came out of nowhere—I don't know how this happened—the others—" he stuttered.

"Get a grip! I can't afford you to lose it now. Get up, get up! And help me shoot these bastards down".

He got up without a sound and helped me.

I felt blood slide down my temple—my left arm—both legs.

Sharp pain to the chest. I grunted. My bulletproof vest got hit.

Joan fell. He wasn't getting up. He was…

I cursed under my breath. Over and over.

Shit—shit—fuck—fuck—fuck.

I felt a hit to the back of my head.

Darkness.

* * *

They told me seventy-two hours had gone by. I didn't believe them—it was definitely more.

"What's your name and rank? Where were you going? Where are the others? What's your next move?" a shady guy with his face covered by a black mask asked me with an accent.

Like hell was I going to _say_ anything.

Slap—slap.

"If I were you, I'd speak. Or you'll force us to get… creative," his eyes were smiling. I shivered.

I smirked. I spit in his face.

Punch in the nose. Blood oozed out. Ouch!

He said something to the guy standing guard at the door. I didn't understand what it was. The guard came back with a spiked chain.

Suddenly I felt absurdly cold. Uh Oh.

_I didn't think…_

"Last chance," he said.

I shut my eyes with as much force I could muster. This obviously wasn't going to end well.

Pain. Pain. Pain. And pain.

For a moment I opened my eyes. There was so much blood. _Everywhere_.

I was scared. Terrified. Shitless.

I was weak. My body felt like a ton. I couldn't move.

Bang! I heard. I looked down.

A hole to the chest.

Pain.

I heard shouting in the background.

After serving the army for ten years… this was how it would end: tortured to death.

—_That I'd be born again…_

Bang! Blood sliding down my face.

My body slumped forward. And minutes passed.

And more minutes.

An hour. Two.

I felt fuzziness around me.

And finally… Black.

_With my memories intact._

* * *

Before I knew it I was surrounded by darkness. The sound of gunshots ringing in my head—over and over.

I can't say when, but the ringing eventually faded.

And I was alone, floating in some sort of squishy/gooey/gross liquid.

Black turned to red.

And then I could hear sounds. They were muted—I couldn't distinguish what they were saying—where they came from—but they were there, and somehow it was comforting.

Every now and then I moved positions. My feet would hit some kind of soft wall, and I'd become uncomfortable. But I'd hear a soft voice, and I'd relax—I was okay. Safe.

I'm not sure for how long it lasted, didn't care, I just didn't want to ever leave the warm, comforting haven.

But it started to get smaller. It felt… constricted.

The walls were crashing down on me, pushing me down, down, down.

I was hit by as rush of cold air, that wasn't really cold, but compared to the warmness I was used to feeling, was freezing.

There was light, laughter, blurred shapes and dulled colors. Screaming.

Something was holding on to me. They looked like… hands. I was passed to other hands, and then others.

But all I could hear was wailing—screaming—bawling—howling—weeping. Crying. But I couldn't pinpoint its location. I knew it was close. Very close. It was the familiar cry of a baby. It was loud, deafening, even

I found myself being cradled—being bounced up and down in an annoyingly steady rhythm.

It hit me.

The wailing, the _baby's_ wailing… was coming from me.

"Well, fuck," was my very first thought. And maybe a few other curse words.

* * *

I can't tell you exactly what happened after my birth, can't say I remember all that much. All I know is that there was a lot a sleeping and cuddling—'Suppose it's a way of bonding. I couldn't see the faces too well; my eyesight wasn't as pristine as it was before I… died.

The family, in which I was born to, brought me to their homely abode after two days in, what I would assume was, a hospital. I was wrapped in a soft pink blanket to keep me protected from the cold wind. I scarcely remember the trees were naked, and their leaves were being crunched under my parents' oddly opened toed boots. It was winter; I came to the conclusion.

The woman carrying me, my _mother_, whispered soft, calming words into my ear—not that I understood any of it… sounded a little like Japanese.

I was quiet for the most part. I'd whimper every now and then, still stunned at the situation I'd found myself in. I suppose from an adult's point of view my _quietness_ was concerning. I just figured I'd have plenty of time to cry in the future.

Thinking about my past gave me a headache.

I looked over my mother's shoulder, and saw a man, my _father,_ trailing behind my mother, with a proud but small, smile stretched across his face. He had a full head of weirdly styled dark graying hair that was the same color as my my mother's. I was struck by the amount of love I saw in his eyes. He looked… familiar—for some reason. He noticed my staring, and his smile widened. He reached out and patted my head gently, carful not to hurt me. I felt funny inside.

In my old life I wasn't so lucky as to have a loving family. I had a drunk as a father, and a weak hearted mother, who was too afraid to lift a finger against said father. I hated them, and I wished that I had been born into a different family—a different life.

Note the irony in all of this?

One day I arrived home—I was sixteen at the time—and I found my mother, Caitlyn, in the kitchen, with a gunshot wound to the chest, and my father, Jeff, with a bullet to the head in their bedroom.

The neighbors heard the gunshots and called the police. It was quite some commotion in my small hometown.

Apparently, from the police reports, my father came home drunk—while I was at school—got angry at my mom for some reason, and shot her in the chest, realized what he'd done, and committed suicide.

I was soon thrown into the Foster System, and jumped form house to house until I reached eighteen. I graduated from high school, went to community collage and studied history for four years. Three months after graduation I joined the army.

And ten years later, at thirty-two, I kicked the bucket.

We arrived at a house—I suppose I should start calling it _home_—and opened the door. I heard little footsteps patting against the wooden floor, coming into our direction. It was a little five-year-old boy with a mop of dark brown hair and eyes. He looked excited, I guess; I don't know how siblings work, I never had any.

My Mother lowered me to the floor, closer to the little boy. She said something in gibberish.

"…Kozue," I heard.

He reached out and pecked my cheek. I could have sworn I blushed. He repeated "Kozue", and let out an enormous smile. I felt funny again.

I later came to find out that Kozue was the name given to me. It means treetop. It's a weird name, but in an odd way, I suppose it fit perfectly.

* * *

In the same week in which I was born, a lot of people came to the house for, what I assume were, congratulations on the new addition to the family. And by the amount of people coming in and out of the house, and coming to see me, I could guess that my family was well liked.

Most of them, however, had these odd-looking metal plates, with a somewhat swirly symbol on it, attached to their foreheads (and other places too, but mainly their foreheads). This puzzled me.

My Father said something to a tall man with spiky white hair. He looked… Familiar. My Mother, who was holding me, handed me over to said man.

Under his hold I felt immediately safe.

He also had a metal plate hung around his forehead. I reached out to grab it, but was stopped by a boisterous laugh. The man said some more gibberish and walked over to the window. He pointed to a mountain with… things that looked like heads on it—I couldn't see well; I'd been born a week earlier. He began spouting some sentences. There were _two_ words that I understood. Shinobi. Hokage-sama.

It clicked.

The reason the people called my dad Hokage-sama.

The reason why everyone wore open-toed boots.

The reason why I couldn't understand the language.

The reason no one made a sound while walking.

The reason why my father looked familiar.

The reason why the white-haired guy holding me looked familiar.

I looked over the man's shoulder and spotted a ten-year-old blond and blue-eyed kid talking to my Father.

Panic.

I was in the Naruto World, the manga that I was obsessed with when I was a teenager.

The swirly symbol was a leaf.

I was in Konohagakure.

My father was Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Third Hokage.

I was being held by one of the legendary Sannin, Jiraiya.

The future Fourth Hokage was a child.

I was surrounded by trained assassins.

...

Holy fuck-shit-shit-shit.

I started crying right then and there.

Go figure.

* * *

Okay! So, this is my first OC fanfic. This is a semi-self insert—for one I'm not in the army, nor am I thirty-two, or have a shitty family. But the attitude and personality is _definitely_ mine.

I'm looking for a Beta! So if you're interested, please PM me!

Now for Kozue's family, the Sarutobi, we know that there are two sons: Asuma, and one that we never learned the name (who is also Konohamaru's father)—I'll give him the name Hiro... Maybe. Asuma hasn't been born yet, so Kozue is the middle child.

It's going to be a wild ride for Kozue, so stay tuned.

CupcakeLoopy.


	2. II

**Top of the Tree**

**II**

I spent a lot of time, as a baby, thinking. Processing. Planning.

If the timeline in my head was correct, I'd been born during a war, the Second Shinobi World War, to be exact (Tsunade was still in the village, from what I could recall).

Funny, I left an army only to join another.

During my—as I liked to call it—"thinking time", I became aware of how dire my situation was: I was an adult, stuck in the body of a baby who, when older, will most likely be forced to become a ninja due to the parents I have.

So pretty much, I'm going to die young. Again.

Breath. Breath.

Who am I kidding? I _knew_ that I'd regret it if I didn't become a ninja. I mean, I was in an army in my past life. Let's face it: by nature, I'm an adrenaline junky.

Fighting for something larger than me, even if insignificantly so, makes me feel important. Sob.

So, I'd have to survive about eighteen years of war (I remember the Fourth Hokage hadn't yet reached the age of thirty when he sealed the Kyuubi into Naruto), two invasions—the sound invasion and Pein's invasion—and a Fourth Shinobi War. Fun.

And if I was going to make it through such events, I'd have to be strong—insanely so. Luckily, however, I was born into a family with prominent ninja, and had an absurdly strong father. So all hope is not lost.

And to be realistic, I already knew the basics of war. And when the time came, killing wouldn't be such a problem, for it wouldn't be a first, nor would being put under such stressful conditions affect me too drastically.

But fortunately, I had thirty-some years before it'll all happen—not including the presently raging war, that is.

Anyway, life as a baby, for the lack of a better word, was boring.

Eat—sleep—cry—crap my pants—cry some more—eat—sleep—sleep—eat—nap—barf—sleep.

My Mom would constantly pick me up and carry me around, which was annoying to say the least; I felt like an invalid. Two months into my new life she took me outside for the first time—if you don't include the walk from the hospital to my house. We dropped my older brother, Hiro, at the ninja academy and proceeded with our stroll.

My first impression was, well, everything was so… weird. The architecture was somewhat similar to that of my old life, but there were differences, for sure. Just about every building had tags slapped on them with some sort of seal written on them. There were also a lot of cracks on the wall, for some reason. And the roads were indeed dirt ones. My mom took me to the park, and we spent time, what felt like an eternity, there socializing—well she socialized while I awkwardly remained on her lap letting a constant flow of saliva run down my chin. So by the time we left the park the streets were crowded with people, it was probably around lunchtime, so everyone was on their lunch break. There weren't all that many trees in the city itself—or at least the heart of it, which was where Mom carried me around—but there were a lot of ninja all over the place; war times and all.

We approached a _really_ tall building—this coming from the eyes of an infant—and entered it. We reached the last floor—but not after being stopped by numerous strangers cooing on and on about my cuteness (or at least that's what I thought they were doing)—and Mom spoke to some secretary lady—who also, by the way, went on the admire my adorableness—and led us strait to an office. There we found my Father perched over some paperwork, just about pulling his hair out in frustration.

I heard a chuckle come from Mom, and Dad's head shot up—a grand smile _smothered_ his face when he saw me, and Mom, but mostly me. I shrieked in delight and let out a joyful smile—not really me, the baby side.

During my first two months I came to the conclusion that I wasn't in complete control of my body and mind. In the simplest way to explain it, I was sharing a mind and body with a baby. Sometimes the baby side would overpower my adult side, and I'd lose control over my emotions among other things. I had to constantly remind myself that despite the age of my mentality, I had no other choice but to accept that I was, indeed, a baby, and that, much to my chagrin, I'd have to literally start from zero. It wasn't a very comforting thought.

They exchanged some words, and off we were again. We walked to a restaurant and grabbed a table. They ate, while I hungrily watched, missing _real_ food. I let out a whimper. They merely glanced at me before continuing eating their meal. Selfish bastards.

They spoke some gibberish here and there, finished their lunch, paid the bill, and off we were again.

Mom handed me over to Dad and we strolled down the streets, he pointed out things and said their names. Whenever he was home—being that he _was_ the Hokage he was always in that office of his-busy, busy, busy—talked to me a lot. But alas, I didn't understand a thing. And it aggravated me beyond belief. What interests me, however, is that he spoke to me with a mature tone, as if I wasn't really a baby. I wonder if he was suspicious about my quiet attitude. Hm. Maybe I should cry more. Or maybe it was the staring?

The trip ended with Mom and I escorting Dad back to his office and after, heading home. I was put to bed—nap time—and I suppose Mother went to do whatever she did when I was not around.

When I woke up Hiro was staring at me just outside my crib.

Having a sibling wasn't as perked up as I though it'd be, I mean, sure Hiro would play blocks with me, and try to read me a children's book, but I scarcely saw the little boy. He was always in the academy, and if he wasn't, he was too busy training or hanging out with his friends. I couldn't help but feel a little neglected and jealous. But what stopped me from seeking a little revenge was that whenever I _did_ see him, he'd always be so happy to see me. He'd always kiss my cheek, and pat my head. I was too afraid that these little moments would be yanked away from me, so as a good little sister, whenever I'd see him, I'd smile and ask to be picked up (not with words; still hopeless in that area).

He, with great difficulty, took me out of the crib (hey man, I am _so_ not that fat!) and placed me on the carpet lying on my back. Then he'd take out a children's book and lie next to me and read the book, pointing to the pictures as he read.

I heard a "ka-cha" coming from the door, where my Mother stood with an old-fashioned camera—they were hard to find, and rare (in this world), but no doubt the Hokage's wife would have one. I suppose she'd eventually frame it and hang it up in one of the living room's wall.

* * *

I was wide-awake at night in my wooden crib—I was about four months old—when I found myself becoming painfully aware of the phenomenon called Chakra.

I suppose at first it was quite uncomfortable. It felt as if some sort of hot liquid was pumping through my system (not blood, excuse you), overwhelming to the point in which I couldn't breath. I'd wake up in middle the night wailing with a high fever for weeks. My parents were forced to take me to the hospital one night, because it had gotten out of hand. Apparently my chakra coils were maturing—finally taking their shape—so that's the reason it had been so, for the lack of a better word, weird. The temperature of the Chakra dropped eventually, or maybe I just got used to it.

But it was always _there._ And I was quite conscious of its presence; there wasn't a second when it wasn't at the back of my mind, silently reminding me where I was, who I was, and what I'd lost. It became a source of comfort at night, when everyone was asleep, and I couldn't help but flinch at the moving shadows coming from the trees outside my window. I came to the conclusion that Chakra wasn't so bad.

And with that in mind, I started experimenting. Nothing too difficult, just summoning Chakra to my hands, feet, and other body parts. I'd cover my hand with a glove of chakra, carful not to use too much, otherwise I'd end up burning my skin.

I did it to occupy my mind, instead of staring off into insanity, which was where I was headed to if I didn't find a new hobby.

* * *

I was six months old—crawling everywhere (an entirely new sense of freedom!)—When my Mother (whatever her profession was) went back to work, off of maternity leave, and my Father started hiring genin teams to take care of me—D-rank missions, if you will. It was usually rather annoying; the genin were always so loud, and most of them couldn't get along with each other, so they'd bicker on and on. In these times I'd make sure to torment them. Okay, so call me mean, but it was amusing as hell. I'd sometimes play the selfish baby, never wanting to share my toys; I'd sometimes play the weepy baby, crying at every little thing; and I'd play the dangerous baby, always getting into dodgy situations (i.e. _mysteriously_ getting my hands on a knife or pair of scissors).

There was only one team that I didn't pull that crap on: Jiraiya's team.

In my old life, Jiraiya was my favorite character in the manga. I mean, sure he was a pervert and all, but the dude was hilarious. And strong—though granted I'm not a big fan of toads. And I recall briefly when he died I cried a little, so yeah, I didn't have the heart to make him suffer; his allegiance could come in handy in the future anyway.

So they arrived at the door, and my Mother opened it, I crawled towards them (trying to figure out who'd be my next victim) and there they were: my favorite team. I went up to Jiraiya's feet, looked up and lifted my arms, wanting to be picked up by him. Normally the sensei doesn't stick around to watch over the D-rank missions (too boring, I suppose), so yes, I was cornering him with my cute baby face. He let out a wholehearted laugh, and picked my up.

My Mom said skeptically "Well, that went well" and it was the first time I understood what she said. I let out a squeal of joy (embarrassing for a woman my age).

Though I preferred to stay with Jiraiya most of the time, I did _allow_ the others to carry me, especially a ten-year-old Minato. He was a really sweet kid; pretty quiet too, which was a double plus in my book. He talked to me, mostly small talk—probably not sure if I understood any of it—but whenever he started to babble he'd blush, and I swear it was the cutest thing!

He sat me down next to some flash cards. He picked one up and stuck it to his forehead. I was dumbfounded—how the hell did he stick the thing to his head—then I realized: Chakra.

It was tempting to imitate him, but grudgingly I decided against it—who had ever heard of a six-month-old being able to manipulate chakra? I wasn't going to take the risk and paint a big, bold, and red sign saying "prodigy" on my back.

Nice try though, Minato.

I grabbed a fist full of cards and chunked them at his face and crawled to the kitchen, where I _knew_ I would find Jiraiya.

* * *

Words came along by the time I reached my eighth month. My sentences were short, if at all. I was satisfied with one-word commands—eat—hungry—pooie—no—up—and such. It seemed that after the understanding of the language came the talking—of course later would be the reading and writing.

It was a typical morning in the Sarutobi household—we were all in the kitchen, Mom cooking breakfast, Hiro drinking a glass of milk, and Dad was working on a bit of paperwork before the food was ready. The smell of Mom's food made my stomach grumble, and my patience was wearing thin. So in an act of rage—more like annoyance—I shouted "Eat!" and you couldn't guess the look of surprise my parents had plastered onto their faces. Hiro started laughing so hard that he almost fell off his chair, and in came my parents joining him. I, thinking that I said it wrong, started blushing insanely out of embarrassment and anger. Before I could control my emotions, I started crying. My parents immediately stopped, and my Dad got up from his seat and picked me up. He said something that I don't think I'll ever forget: "In your own time, my little leaf". Right then and there my heart melted, and I stopped crying.

That day was also the first time I spent the day in the Hokage's office with my Dad—I suppose he finally took pity on the teams that were supposed to babysit me. For the most part it was rather boring—he spent most of the time filling out paperwork—but around mid-morning came barging in a team, who were pretty beat up, with an emergency situation. I was sitting on the ground besides my Dad's desk playing with recreational toys, and what stood out to me first was that I _felt_ them before they actually came in through the doors. I think my Dad noticed my reaction because I mildly remember him looking at me with a questioning brow—not a good thing, mind you. I knew he wouldn't want me to listen to the conversation he would have with the team, so I returned my gaze to my toys, but kept an ear out anyway to find out what was going on.

The team had apparently caught sight on a fleet on Mist ninja headed toward the Fire Country. They estimated about twenty ships with all kinds of ranked ninja. And unfortunately most of our ninja were fighting against Iwa on Ame territory. So we'd have to either settle things diplomatically (unlikely), weaken the security of the village to send out men, remove a number of our ninja fighting Iwa to confront Mist, or we call in a favor to one of our allies, which at the time was Sand, thought as we have seen, they weren't exactly trust worth.

I was impressed with how my Dad handled the situation so swiftly. First he ordered the team to calm down and sent them to the hospital, he then called a meeting with the council, in which he'd inform them of the situation, and together they'd come to a conclusion.

At the time I wasn't very concerned with what would happen as long as they didn't come knocking on the village gates.

My dad forgot about me, and left me in the office alone. Revenge time. Looking back, I feel a little guilty because he came back from the meeting with the village's council completely drained, and with a few new strands of white hair. He came back to a floor covered in paperwork and blotches of ink all over the place. Granted, he shouldn't have left an eight-month-old alone for three hours, but the look on his face killed me. I never did it again, nor did he.

* * *

Well, that's the end of the second chapter!

I don't want to spend too much time on Kozue's baby phase because I have to cover around thirty years of the story. So if you do find it a little rushed, please inform me and I'll slow down.

As for the time period in which Kozue was born in, it's actually the Second War because I did the math (surprise, surprise) and in the shippuden she'd be one year older than Shizune (32), therefore Shizune has yet to be born, thus Tsunade is still in the village, Dan is alive, and the three orphans (Nagato, Konan and Yahiko) have yet to meed Jiraiya.

Thanks for reading, and please review (it helps with my motivation and confidence). Also, if you spot any typos, please tell me! I hate them, but I'm human, so they're bound to happen.

CupcakeLoopy


	3. III

**Top of the Tree**

**III**

I've always been absurdly selfish, so it came as no surprise that when I turned one and my Mom threw me a party, I kept to myself, repeatedly snatching my toys from the hands of other insufferable brats. They kept drooling all over my stuff! There's no way I'd let them keep my toys—they were _mine_, and any more drool would end up transmitting some sort of disease to my fragile baby immune system.

Since the beginning of time, or at least my beginning of time, I _hated_ parties. They were annoying as hell, and I wasn't much of a drinker, so watching my friends make fools out of themselves gave me no amusement, instead pure annoyance. I remember one time in my old life my mom threw me a surprise party for my sixteenth birthday (my dad was out on a business trip). Of course I was surprised as hell, to the point in which I walked into the house's living room, heard everyone shout "Surprise!" turned one-eighty degrees and headed out the door. I didn't come back until morning, and even then I spent a month without talking to Caitlyn. What was the problem in celebrating a birthday in a small diner with close friends? She said I'll only ever be sixteen once. Back then I thought that as a valid point and shut up, but back then, well, I didn't know that I'd be reincarnated into a different world.

Anyway, the day came, and I had no idea. I didn't know the exact date I'd been [re] born into—which now I know is November 17th—so imagine my surprise when people came flooding in through the doors with their pests they call children and obnoxious presents. I suddenly found myself surrounded by children (I really can't stand them; never could). So yeah, not fun.

My solution was to stick to the adults—being cooed at by them was much more interesting than any loud child. I crawled towards the group of adults I found my parents at, and asked to be picked up (intentionally using the cutest baby face I had as to avoid rejection). My Dad looked amused, because he'd seen how I reacted to other children, and picked me up. I nuzzled into his neck, and the squeals of the many older women in the room became rather loud ("How adorable", "look! She's blushing", and my favorite "what gorgeous eyes she has"—though technically they're nothing special, just a dull shade of brown). I quickly glanced at my Mom, and she looked smug for some reason. Dad noticed too, because I felt is chest shake in a silent chuckle.

I heard some commotion by the door and turned my head. There I saw Jiraiya trailed by his genin team. I'm not ashamed to admit that a smile was plastered on my face, and cue to more squeals. He walked towards the group of adults, and his students went to mingle with the kids their age and check out the food. As Jiraiya approached us I reached my arms towards him.

"Jiya" I said.

He took me with a smile and messed up my hair (my Mom spent hours trying to get me to sit still and pull back my hair into pig-tails with a pair of blue ribbons) as he patted my head. From the corner of my eye I saw a scowl fold on her face. I cracked up.

The whole point of telling the story of my first birthday is that there were several important events that happened. The first was that I finally met Tsunade and Orochimaru. Can't say I was happy with the latter, but from what I knew, Orochimaru had yet to start experimenting on children, and would only start when I was much older. So for the time being I was safe. And as for Tsunade, I think she was far more enthusiastic to meet me that I was with her. She, much like the other women, started cooing on and on about my cuteness (yes, I know, I'm _so_ modest), and then took me into her lap and hugged me to her chest, where I dully noted was flatter than I remembered, hm. But anyway, just like the other guests they walked in through the door, but instead of roaming the place headed straight towards the group adults, which coincidently was where they found me clinging to Jiraiya. They wished me happy birthday, which caused me to giggle (not sure why) and went on to congratulate my parents on my beauty. At some point I remember Tsunade commenting to Jiraiya how I'd be "the only women to be held by him willingly", which, to their surprise, made me snort in amusement, and she went on, "See! Little Kozue agrees, yes she does (insert cooing here)". Orochimaru didn't even attempt to pick me up (thank god!), and it's not like I'd actually let him, anyway.

The second important event that happened was that one of the guests, who was very heavily pregnant, went into labor. I didn't know who it was at the time, but now I know that it was Dan's sister (Tsunade's Dan, though at that point I don't think they had officially met each other). Now, originally I didn't know what my Mom's occupation was, but after that day I knew; she was a medic, more specifically a midwife, so instead of taking the mother-to-be to the hospital, she had the grand idea of delivering the child in my house. Imagine my amusement at night trying to sleep when there was a woman screeching in pain from childbirth.

Now that I think of it, it was quite an amusing scene, the pregnant lady. You see, what happened was that her water broke in the middle of a conversation with my mother, of whose lap I was in. She has the weirdest expression of morbid dread and joy all mixed in one. I started giggling furiously when she started to moan in pain and I knew it was wrong, but I just could help myself, must've been the baby in me finding amusement in other people's pain, or it was really me and I'd just never noticed how dark my sense of humor really was. Anyway, I could see a tick mark appear on her forehead when I couldn't contain my amusement, so for my safety, Dad took me and left for the kitchen. I could briefly hear her curse the world and my Mom encourage her: "That's right honey, let it all out, show those bastard of husbands what they've done to us—the torture they put us through!" I suppose Mom was a bit of a feminist.

So yes, a baby girl was born in the guest room of our house.

Later in the morning the new mother, her baby and my family sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Everyone looked worse for wear, with big black circles under their eyes, but there was a feeling of _fresh_ in the air, and I couldn't quite place it. I mean, sure I had friends in my old life, but most of them were guys, due to my occupation, and when their wives _did_ have babies, it didn't feel so… special.

"This is Shizune," Mom said, "I reckon you'll be good friends in the future".

Surprise was the only word to describe my facial expression.

The adults in the room laughed.

* * *

Mom started planning play dates for me. Can't say I was surprised, or pleased, for that matter. It was only a matter of time until y parents thought that I needed to meet other people, other babies. In my opinion it was counter-productive. I was a thirty-some woman stuck in the body of a one-year-old, thus playing with babies was hardly what I considered fun.

The play dates didn't turn out to well; I'd often sneak away to hang out with the adults or "play" by myself, in my own solitude. I think my anti-socialness concerned my parents, because often I'd find them staring at me with doubt. They soon got the hint that I wasn't a big fan of babies—or people, for that matter—and decided to try again when I was older, which was fine with me. So they decided to try having genin babysit me again.

I started walking two months past my first birthday. I was alone in the living room having runoff another team of genin. It's rather simple, really, how it all happened: I just looked around and found no one around, so I stood up and waked towards the front door of the house. We had a front lawn that was rather nice and it was covered in remaining snow from three days prior a snowstorm, which I've come to appreciate since it's such a rare occurrence in Konoha—even though in normal circumstances I absolutely _hate_ snow. February was coming to an end, and I didn't know when would be the next time I'd see the snow, so I grabbed at some coats that were hanging behind the door and put the one that fell on the floor on me, which was way to big for my little body, put my shoes on and with a scarf, pulled the door's handle down, and got out of the house.

I understand that it shouldn't be possible for a one-year-old to do such things, and if I think about it there was probably some sort of ninja hiding in the shadows to ensure my safety, and saw everything I did, but I just couldn't sit and wait for someone older to come get me, I was _bored_, and in this life there was no such thing as the internet to keep me entertained, so sneaking out of the house was my next best bet to find entertainment.

I think someone must have notified my Dad on what I did, because ten minutes after throwing myself into the snow, which wasn't quite white anymore and more like brown, came someone to my so called rescue. In came a trio of, what I thought were, genin. They were around Minato's age, around ten or so, maybe nine, and they were all so very distinctive looking. There was one who had platinum blond hair tied into a ponytail, which probably ended around the middle of his back, a slightly taller one (I had trouble telling his height because he was hunched over lazily) had his black hair also in a ponytail that spiked up, and then there was the tallest of them all, a boy who was a little on the heavy side had a mane of wild brown hair and pink twirls drawn on his cheeks.

"Hey Shikaku, there's the kid," pointed out the tallest genin.

"That's the so called devil's spawn all the genin keep complaining about?" asked the blond one, almost scoffing.

The Shikaku kid just kept a critical eye on me, and due to my stubbornness I kept eye contact, daring him to do something I didn't approve; there was no way I'd let a little ten-year-old stare me down—as if. I heard him sigh and mutter 'troublesome'. I'd recognize _that _catchphrase anywhere. Of course it couldn't be Shikamaru, because he'd only be born in approximately eighteen years, so it had to be his father, although he was missing the scars and the facial hair, and if it was his father then this groups was no other than the senior Ino-Shika-Chou team.

They opened the gates to the fence that surrounded my house and walked over to me. They crouched to reach my level, and Shikaku decided to poke me in the forehead. Did I mention that I had four new teeth? (I went through my teething phase when I was six months old—can't say it was pleasant for anyone) I grabbed his finger, with what looked like the speed of lighting, and bit him. Hard. The boy yelped, and I wore a smug look. _You mess with me, buddy, and you'll regret it._ I suppose the message came across, because they inched away from me. And I ignored their presence and continued to play in the snow. Next thing I know they were huddled together and it was oddly suspicious, so I instead of sticking around to see what they had planned for me, I channeled chakra to my feet, as to not create any sound, and simply walked around them, heading towards the food district after getting past the gates, and my overly large coat, which might have belonged to my Mom, trailed on snow following me.

I suppose it worked because I only heard them scream (Oh shit, where is she?!) by the time I was a mile or so away. I didn't take any chances as to not get caught, so every time I saw a ninja who could recognize me I ducked behind people, in alleys, under stands and such.

My attention was on the ninjas that came and went, not the civilians, which was a mistake on my part, since I ended up bumping into the legs of a thirteen-year-old boy who was carrying several loads of ramen delivery bowls. Obviously my little form bumping into the boy sent him off balance, because next thing I knew, I was covered in ramen broth and noodles and toppings, not to mention lying on the ground. All I heard was a yelp in warning, and even then I didn't think anything of it.

It shouldn't have been an insult, but the boy looked around in search for the source of the bump. I knew that I was as tall as the average adult's knees, but seriously, look at the floor kid! Anyway, he finally noticed my presence and started apologizing furiously, which by that moment I was pissed off and annoyed. So as an apology, he took me to the ramen stand his father owned, cleaned me up, and even served me some ramen, which was by far the best I had eaten.

"This is Ichiraku Special," he said, "Dad doesn't know, but this is my proudest accomplishment—oh, and by the way I'm Teuchi".

I reached my chubby little hand out for him to shake, "Kozue".

"Do you have a family name, Kozue-chan?" he asked shaking my tiny hand.

"Sarutobi"

His eyes widened. He was surprised, I suppose. After all, it's not every day that you walk into the Hokage's infant daughter, or more like she walks into you. He sputtered a little, at loss as to what he should say.

"W-well, does your father know where you are?" he asked.

I wondered if I should I have lied to him or not. He was a nice kid—a happy and energetic kid—and he gave me free food, which definitely gave him bonus points. So instead of doing what I should have, which was lie because if my Dad found out he'd be furious, I told him the truth, that no, he didn't know where I was, and that I was headed to his office before I bumped into him (which was true, though I guess I got a little lost). He told his dad, who was out in the back of the store, that he was going out, and took me by the hand, and we headed towards the Hokage tower.

"I'm going to own the shop one day," he beamed proudly, puffing up his chest and everything, "What do you want to do when you're older"

Inwardly I laughed, as _if_ I'd have a choice, "A ninja I suppose".

What he asked me next left me at a loss of words, I don't think he actually thought that I'd answer him, or understood the question at all, but I did, and my answer might have surprised him a little.

"Is it what _you_ want to do?"

I stared at him in wonder.

"No," I paused, "but I've accepted that that is what's expected of me".

"How old are you again?" he asked incredulously.

"One"

We reached the tower and he dropped me off on the footsteps after I told him that I wasn't to surprise my Dad. He looked at me warily, but sighed and nodded in understanding. He left but not after getting me to promise to visit him in the Ramen stand. It took me a while to reach the top of the building, and luckily I didn't come by any other ninjas, because that could've been really awkward. I got to his office, and heard yelling.

"What do you _mean_ you lost her?!"

I stood in front of the door in doubt; should I knock, or just barge in? Not that by doing so I'd accomplish what I wanted to, not with my little body; it didn't have the imposing presence that I required to make a point, which was: yeah, I'm capable of getting here on my own without any help, and you should stop hiring idiots to take care of me. But before my little hand reached the door, it burst open.

There was a suffocating pause that made my skin crawl in awkwardness.

In hopes of ending the silence, I wobbled around the boys that were earlier in my garden, who were looking at me skeptically, probably wondering how the hell I'd gotten there, and headed towards the desk in which my Dad too stared at me in bemusement. Once I was at the desk, I turned around to face the boys.

"Devil's spawn," I mocked.

They paled.

Inwardly I cackled.

* * *

Dad wasn't impressed. Not. One. Bit. Fortunately, however, I was too young to be grounded, so that was out of the question. No doubt he didn't question my intelligence anymore. After the episode he stuck an older ninja on me, never to leave my side, which to my amusement worked wonders. I suppose it worked like this: Whoever has nothing to do, gets to take care of me. So they were chunin and jonin looking after me.

I couldn't keep much from him, so I told what happened, from the part of the genin turning their backs on me all the way to the part in which Teuchi took me to the tower. I think that there was a hidden amusement in my Dad's eyes, because during my tale, his lips would occasionally twitch. His one-year-old daughter bested a team of genin. Didn't do much for the boys' dignity.

By dinner time the same day, half the village knew what I had done.

Including a man named Danzo, much to my displeasure.

* * *

It was fun writing this. Devil's spawn. Ha!

Anyway, thanks so much for the reviews and follows and favorites! They certainly helped my motivation, thus my updating faster.

And yes, I may suck at math, but I hate having inconsistencies in my fanfiction, therefore I planned it all out, including the ages and such. If you go to the Naruto Wiki, you'll find that Shizune was born on December 18th, which I had to go back and check before publishing this chapter. Also, Kozue meets new people! I really cracked up in this one, and I hope you guys did too.

Please review the chapter and make my day! (I also write faster with reviews)

CupcakeLoopy

P.S. I'm still looking for a Beta!


	4. IV

**Top of the Tree**

**IV**

There was a knock on the door—not that people knocking on our house's door was unusual, if anything it was more usual than not. No, the only thing that stood out to me, that caught my attention, was the chakra behind said door—there were three sources, and all of them were hefty but jaded—experienced.

People started paying attention to me, especially the ninja. Several months went by and I tried to be inconspicuous as possible with everything I did, but the pebble was thrown into the pond, leaving the ripples to bite me in the ass. It was a mistake on my part to not have considered the people's reaction to my actions initially; it was a mistake on my part to believe that no one would think too hard of a one year old. A mistake.

Being that I'd never been the sharpest crayon in the box might add in to the entire situation. I'd always been quite average in just about everything, so being in the situation I was in—'ya know, the whole "a woman's mind stuck in a baby's body" deal—did give me the little extra something that could make me shine a little brighter instead of blending into the background. But since my intelligence is so very ordinary, I tended to let my emotions do a little bit of controlling. Thus I talked without thinking, and I acted without reason, hence the unfortunate position I was currently in.

Should've thought it all out better. Should've been more discrete and less impulsive—reckless.

Stupid. Imbecile. Fool. Idiot.

Not to mention my patience was laughable; if in a year in this world already had me spilling secrets, I didn't want to know what almost two decades would do—maybe I'd tell the world of where I truly come from, and that worried me to the point in which I would lie awake in bed with the thoughts of people trying to burn me on the stake like the witch trials in Salem.

But the whole concept of being reborn is _scary_—especially when I had my past memories to muddle up my reasoning. It didn't matter if I'd been reincarnated for a year, or if I'd have _many_ years to get used to the idea, it'll always be in the back of my mind, it will always be something that I find simply bizarre—for crying out loud, I had to go through puberty_ again!_ God only knows that the first time was hard enough. So _I_ think my slip up was justifiable—but it didn't erase me from everyone else's radar.

They knocked on the door on a pretty normal day.

It was the first time I realized people had noticed me, and that I was no longer a mere baby.

It was early spring, mid-morning. Dad hadn't gone to work, having overslept for the first time in months, Mom had a night shift at the hospital the previous night so she was in the kitchen drinking coffee with my Dad and I surrounding her, and Hiro was at the academy. They knocked on the door of our house, and all movement stopped, as if time itself had stopped. Our breaths hitched—because the last time someone knocked on our door had been months before my little stunt. We just didn't know what to expect.

My parents shared glances, and finally my Dad decided to answer the door—Mom and I followed. I kept biting my bottom lip in order to find _some_ kind of calmness.

The door revealed the faces of two men and a woman who looked the same age of my parents. They weren't really _that_ old, probably in their late thirties or early forties. They had stern smacked across their faces almost as if the scowl was permanently imbedded onto their skin. Their hair still had color, but seemed dulled from time, and their skin was imprinted with wrinkles, making them look older than they really were. I suppose they'd been through a lot in their youth. Their clothes were perfectly clean, as was the rest of their look. Hair was in tip-top shape, not one strand going astray. They were impeccable.

They introduced themselves as Utatane Koharu, Mitokado Homura, and Shimura Danzo.

I knew who they were—I knew quite well. Granted, it had been the first time that I'd _actually_ met them, and they did look a bit different from the characters from the manga (for one they were all so much younger and seemed less grouchy, and Danzo wasn't wrapped up from head to toe with bandages like a mummy), but I _knew_. And I also knew that they didn't simply show up on our doorstep to sip on tea, eat biscuits, and talk about the weather. I had a feeling that I would be pulled into the middle of the circle, and that shit would hit the fan.

And obviously with my luck, it would surely happen.

* * *

They sat down on the living room's couch, surrounding themselves with an air of aristocracy and superiority. I sat on my Dad's lap and my Mom remained in the kitchen next door just in case things didn't work out she'd be able to jump into the fray and save me (so to speak). There was a long pause of silence that would have made the fall of a needle to the ground sound as if it were an earthquake. I didn't know what to expect, but the tension in the air was obvious, as was the reason why the two advisers and the head of the underground branch, Root, were there: me.

Getting right to the point, Homura cleared his throat, "We want the child to begin training immediately".

From the corner of my eye I saw Koharu nod and heard Danzo grunt in agreement.

Immediately after the words left the foul man's mouth, my Dad was already saying no. He didn't hesitate, he didn't have to—he wasn't one to simply ship off his only daughter (who, may I remind you, was a year old) for training to fight in a war, and possibly die by the time she reached three. I wasn't concerned about _that—_ I knew what kind of man my Dad was, and he wasn't heartless or desperate.

I was scared that being under these people's watchful gazes that I'd somehow slip up and act like the adult I'd grown to be, or that they'd treat me like just another disposable tool and place me on the front line where people could then resume to use me as a shield to protect themselves from flying knives.

"You turn up at my home to tell me that you want to take my daughter from me? You actually thought you'd accomplish something by coming here today?" Hiruzen's anger was simply radiating off of his skin. Had it been directed at me, I wouldn't have felt so safe in his arms.

"It's for the good of the village," said Danzo trying to reason with Hiruzen, except he didn't know that saying such would only anger him more.

"The good of the—how _dare_ you even say that!" his face was red as I was sure was his vision, and I half expected him to start shooting jutsu at the man, "you think that putting a one-year-old on the frontline will be for the good of the village? We're _not_ monsters!"

"No, we're shinobi, and that's close enough," argued Danzo, "We're in need of all the help we can get, even if it means sacrificing this child".

I was _so_ terrified of dying.

The fear of my Dad giving in was so overwhelming to the point in which I burst into tears and started bawling. Mom came running into the room and snatched me from my Dad's hold, she later went on to scolding the three guests that they had no _right_ to come walking into our house and laying claim on their baby girl as if she were a piece of raw meat. She kicked them out of the house maybe almost as forcefully as she had taken me from Dad's grip. She locked the door shut after muttering "good riddance".

But that was hardly the end of matters—A little bit of tears would hardly make _them_ give up.

* * *

There was a prickling sensation at the nape of my neck.

Someone was watching me.

It happened a lot, the stalking, so to speak, in the last couple of months. Whenever I was alone in the garden, in my room, in the kitchen—anywhere—there was someone watching me. It's not that I could _see_ them; they hid themselves skillfully amongst the shadows, no, it's that I could _feel_ them there—looming over my little body as a lion would its prey.

I had a hunch as to why it happened, but that's all it was: a hunch.

I had managed to gain the attention, if not anger, three incredibly powerful and, might I add, strong people. I made it to their black list, and I wasn't even two yet. So they were watching me (not personally, they couldn't be bothered by that).

Because of the watching, I had to keep to myself at all times. I fell silent. I couldn't show off, as I loved to do, I had to act like the baby I looked like. My parents thought my behavior was odd, going so far as sitting me down to ask me what was bothering me, because, apparently, being my parents gave them some sort of freaky observation skills that someone non-related to me wouldn't normally have.

Paranoia became a constant in my life. I would continuously check over my shoulder to see if there was anyone there, because there always was someone there, but I couldn't see them, but they _were _there. I was scared of an enemy I couldn't see. And such mindset would embed itself into my very being, and become a part of me, just like any other limb. It would follow me to my grave.

Hiro remained oblivious through the entire ordeal.

I couldn't help but envy him. And maybe feel like punching him.

* * *

November came along, and I celebrated my second birthday with my immediate family and close friends. Shizune was there, and she could hardly talk, slurped on her food, and drooled liters, but from all of the other kids, she was definitely my favorite.

I had learned how to talk and walk; I was potty trained, and eating real food again. I'd begun to learn how to read, and I knew that as soon as I could do so, I would learn how to write. My babysitters were either chunin or fellow clan members (which surprisingly were many). Things were finally taking shape.

And then April came rolling in, and I noticed that Mom had put on some weight. One night during dinner, she kept shooting glanced at Dad who in turn nodded. Their faces became blank and I glanced at Hiro, wondering if he'd understood what was going on. He just shot me a confused look and returned his gaze towards our parents.

Dad cleared his throat regaining my attention, "Kozue, would you like to be a big sister?"

I stared at him blankly wondering where exactly this conversation was going.

"I guess?"

"And you, Hiro-kun, what do you think of having another little brother or sister?" asked Mom this time.

Hiro, being the seven year old he was had a more violent reaction, "What, you don't think Kozue-chan is good enough?"

What he said surprised me, because next thing I knew he was latched onto me tightly, and my jaw had dropped open. My parents seemed to have had the same reaction, seeing that their eyes were probably just as wide as my own.

He continued, "Kozue-chan is special, and I like Kozue-chan just the way Kozue-chan is. I won't let you replace Kozue-chan!"

I felt tears gather in the corners of my eyes.

"We're not going to replace anyone, sweetie," exclaimed Mom after recovering from the shock.

Dad started chuckling, "No, we're just going to add another one of you into the game". There was an unfamiliar calculating glint in his eyes.

I shivered.

The way Dad—no Hiruzen—put it was unsettling. The game? So life was but a game? Was that all we were, little pawns added into the board to aid the player? He was acting just like those three so called comrades of his. Or at least that's what it sounded like to me. Maybe he would crack under the pressure of those three assholes were putting onto him and turn me into some sort of baby soldier. I suddenly remembered that he wasn't just my father, he was the ruler of my village, and he could be just as manipulative and despicable as any other bad character. But I wasn't going to be used, or added, or be a part of the game at all, I decided. I was going to play my own game, and see how everyone would react.

Hiro seemed to accept the explanation, but I stayed silent. My parents didn't comment on the sudden mood change, but no doubt they noticed. They always noticed, even the littlest things.

"What do you say, Kozue? Another brother or sister?" asked Hiruzen.

"Brother" I muttered, "I'll have a little brother".

"You don't know that, baby," said Mom softly, amused, even.

"Yes I do".

Hiruzen smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

I felt my heart drop.

He wasn't _Dad_ anymore.

* * *

You guys have _no_ idea how happy you guys made me with all your reviews and follows and favorites! I swear, every time, without exception, I always feel warm and fuzzy when I see that you guys are enjoying my story.

Kozue is seeing a new side of her dad, so let's see what happens with their rocky relationship (there will certainly be a bit or bad blood between them in the near future).

I've been trying to update this chapter for over a month now (it's been ready since before the Christmas holidays, and it was my plan to upload it then as a gift from me to you guys, since you've all given me so much!) but the internet connection was just crap. So I haven't been able to update this chapter (believe me, I felt your pain), but here it is, and I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Also, a note to you all, I'm moving to a different country, so I don't know when I'll be able to update the next chapter, which I admit, have yet to start writing.

And as always, please review, fave, and follow, none of these go unnoticed, and as I hope you lot have seen, it does help with motivation and faster updates.

Next chapter we meet Asuma!

Cheers,

CupcakeLooney


	5. V

**Top of the Tree**

**V**

Spring ended, summer rolled in, and before I knew it, autumn approached along with cold, but bearable, winds and the falling of enflamed leaves. The days grew shorter, people adopted warmer clothes, and a shadow crept across the land bringing in its wake the eventual winter.

The news of a new arrival to the Sarutobi clan spread like wild-fire in a dry Savanna landscape. By early September our house was overflowing with gifts, cards, and flowers congratulating the ecstatic family on the new addition—even though said addition was, technically, still yet to come.

Mom took her leave from work only a day before labor, and thus she literally stepped out of the building at 11:59pm, only to have her water break right outside the hospital and to have to step back into said building a minute later at 12:00am. Hiruzen seemed to be as excited and thrilled as Hiro, but I couldn't reciprocate said feelings; I only felt a sense of dread creep through my gut as the days approached—an impending doom, if you will.

The watching coming from the shadows had but subsided since the earlier months, and my paranoia only seemed to increase by the minute—not even the arrival of the much-anticipated Asuma made my tense little muscles relax. I spent too many hours worrying and not enough sleeping—I was getting sloppy with exhaustion, and that wasn't something I could afford, after all, I was living in a world where ninja roamed the land, and the dead could be revived. It would only take one slip to fall flat on my face and break my mask.

Not only was the birth of my little brother coming, but so was the month in which I'd complete my three years of life. After that, it'd be completely justifiable to start my ninja training (I mean, Kakashi graduated the academy at five!), and I couldn't help but feel worry sweep into the very core of my being. My age—my safety net—would be shredded into pieces, and then I'd free fall—into the hands of terrible people.

* * *

Hiruzen, Hiro and I sat in the waiting room of Konoha's hospital anxiously waiting for news on Mom and little Asuma. Hiruzen seemed to count the amount of cracks in the ceiling, and Hiro bounced on his seat to the point in which I though I'd heard a snap coming from the chair. I sat passively in my seat attempting to read a children's book to no avail—no matter how hard I tried, I was simply rubbish at understanding the little lines that formed words. Even in my old life it took me a while to learn how to read—and only when I was much older did I actually start liking it.

Tsunade would be delivering my little brother, so I wasn't at all worried, not to mention I already knew what would happen to Mom and Asuma; they'd make it out alright, though I couldn't say the same about Hiruzen and Hiro.

After five hours of labor, Tsunade walked in, removing her gloves and mask. She gave us an exhausted, but relieved smile, which was all we needed to know that the delivery was successful. We took no time into getting into the room to meet little Asuma, though by then we didn't have a name for him yet.

He was a pink, wrinkled little thing. Can't say he'd gotten my beauty genes—kidding, I had yet to gaze upon a mirror and see what I looked like; I was a little scared to do so, I mean, what if I was just as ugly as Asuma? Anyway, Asuma looked like any newborn: ugly with a patch of black hair—if he were born bald I would put him in an entirely new ugly category. Since I was the shortest, I was allowed to stay on the bed, and thus gaining a better glimpse at my little brother.

Hiruzen approached Mom and kissed her on the forehead and muttered, "Well done, sweetheart".

It was endearing, until she answered, "Do this to me again, and you die".

I think Hiro's face was the best though, because it was a look of disappointment, as if saying 'that's it?' Poor guy thought that all babies were born as cute as me. I suppose he'd eventually grow accustomed to Asuma.

Hiruzen cleared his throat, "What shall we name him?"

"Jiro?" said an unsure Hiro.

"Shuu," said Mom.

I snorted.

'Responsible?'

No way.

"Hama,"

"No, Etsuo,"

"How about Haru?"

And so it went on and on, until I lost my patience and stated that his name would be, "Asuma".

It was decided.

* * *

Night fell; the entire family was huddled in the hospital room sleeping soundly—Hiro and I slept on the couch, Hiruzen slept on a chair near the bed, Mom slept on her bed and little Asuma slept in the crib.

I woke up with a startle and looked in my surroundings; it was dark but there was a gap in the curtains that let the moonlight escape into the room.

I spotted some tiny hands waving randomly in the crib, and decided to approach it.

Asuma was awake.

I pushed an empty chair closer to the crib, trying my best not to wake anyone; I got on it, and peered down as Asuma's little form. He looked up to me with his blue-grey eyes that all newborn babies seemed to have, and let out a small whine.

A smile crept across my face, and I grabbed one of his hands that seemed suspended in the air.

His hands were surprisingly smooth, soft and chubby—it made me want to bite it.

I started humming some sort of tune, and he rapidly fell asleep.

He seemed so peaceful—innocent.

A frown took over my smile—it wouldn't last long.

I leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

"I'll do my best to protect you," I whispered in his ear.

* * *

Mom spent the next week in the hospital with Asuma; seeing that she had yet to recover, and Asuma was deemed a tad too small, the doctors wanted to keep an eye on him.

Earlier in the summer Hiro had graduated from the academy at a proud age of eight. We had a quiet familiar celebration—seeing that it wasn't safe to invite too many people to the house while Mom was pregnant, not to mention my own sad current state of affairs. He soon began doing D-rank missions like running errands and such, but it was two days after Asuma's birth that his team would get their first C-rank mission—one out of the village, at that.

So Mom and Asuma were away in the hospital, and Hiro was out on a mission, leaving Hiruzen and me alone that night.

That is, until an alarm rang out through the village, and Hiruzen ran out the doors.

He forgot me.

He left me alone in a big, dark house.

Me.

An almost three-year-old.

Dumbass.

I knew the man could be careless, but I didn't think he could be stupid too, I mean, who in their right mind leaves a baby alone? What parent would forget their child? What work is important than _me_?

I'd never felt so small and insignificant.

And that's when the feeling of an impending doom kicked in.

I was in the dark living room—being too short to reach the switch to turn on the lights—when I heard a shuffling noise in the bushes outside the window. Then I heard footsteps, until the front door opened. I never felt any chakra, which was weird, to begin with—since, y'know, all living things supposedly have chakra.

Being the smart little baby I was, I hid in a dark corner just next to the sofa. I placed my hands over my mouth to muffle my breathing, and retracted as in to the wall as I could. If it _was _an enemy—I didn't recognize the chakra signature—I couldn't outrun, I could definitely outsmart them by hiding underneath their noses.

I waited.

There were hushed whispers and more footsteps.

They got closer

And closer.

Until they stopped.

Right in front of me.

I felt dread creep down my lungs and landed at the pit of my stomach.

I let out a shaky breath from under my mouth.

My eyes shut tightly.

Shit.

* * *

I never left the dark, it seemed, because I woke up out of, what seemed to be, a daze—or maybe it was forced sleep; they, whoever they were, probably knocked me out—in the familiar presence of darkness, for what felt like an eternity—it actually vaguely reminded me of that time I was in Mom's womb. There was something on my face, because breathing didn't come out easily. I was surrounded by hot air of nothingness.

I couldn't move, by hands and feet were bound, my voice was muffled—all I could muster was a pathetic whimper.

I was cold—thirsty—hungry—dizzy—confused—sleepy—and lonely.

But most of all, I was afraid.

And fear was not something I was accustomed to feeling (I mean sure, there's the fear you feel when you almost hit another car with your own, but not fear that you feel when you're in a life or death situation, not the fear ruining a second chance at life). It was a foreign feeling, and I hated it; it made me doubt myself, and I couldn't feel such way in the situation I'd found myself in.

Hearing a shuffle of movement a few feet away from me, I stilled.

The question was: should I pretend to still be sleeping, or attempt to talk to the enemy, or whoever was there with me.

I wasn't able to continue my thought process, because the potato sack I seemed to be wearing on my head was yanked off me with a fast and unexpected movement that made me yelp in surprise.

"Well boys, it looks like the little princess is awake!" said a fake cheerful, female voice.

I heard some chuckles in the background.

I stayed silent.

"Look here kid, we're not here to hurt you," I snorted, "but if you're not cooperative—you know what cooperative means, yes? —We'll be forced to get a little rough".

Huh, talk about déjà vu.

I mean, really!

I just stared back of the figure—I couldn't make much of it because of the dim lighting of whatever the hell were in, but I could tell it was a female, probably a konoichi talking.

"Sweetie, we only want to ask a few questions,"

They _only_ wanted to ask a few questions? _Really?_

"I-I don't k-know anything!" I stuttered in fear, embarrassing, by the way, I mean, after ten years on the duty you'd think that I could talk to my enemies with a straight face.

"Kid, if you answer our questions you'll be home by no time!"

Somehow I didn't believe a word that was said. But I did contemplate in telling these guys whatever they wanted. I mean, sure I could do some tricks, but I still had the body of a toddler at the end of the day—hardly suitable to take on four enemy ninja. But my stubbornness struck, as did my sense of loyalty. What would the people think of me—what would _Dad_ think of me—if I told these ninjas whatever information they wanted? I'd be thought of as a traitor for the rest of my life—and that being that said life had just begun! I decided that I'd stall—buy some time for my saviors, if there were any.

"What are the questions?" I asked in a quiet tone.

"Have you ever been in your father's office?"

"Yes,"

"Have you ever seen papers with lines on them, and words,"

I looked puzzled for a moment, "you mean maps?

"Yes, maps,"

"No,"

"And what about cylinder-shaped objects made of paper that when you open them there are black squiggles,"

Did they think I was an idiot?

"You mean scrolls?" I asked with a deadpan expression.

"Yes, scrolls,"

I scowled, "All the time,"

"I see,"

There was a bit of an awkward silence that followed.

"What was written on them?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly.

"You don't know? And why would that be?"

"I can't read…"

And for a second I thought I saw them all sweat drop.

The ninjas huddled into a circle and started whispering harshly. I heard one of them question, "isn't she supposed to be a genius?" And another one muttered, "I knew this was a bad idea".

No kidding.

They left me alone for an hour or two to come up with a different approach, or maybe talk to their superiors of the futility of my kidnapping. I mean, I may have information about the future, but that knowledge doesn't stretch far through the Second and Third Wars. Honestly, my information about said subject was minimal to none.

I tried focusing on their chakra signatures, but they seemed a bit foggy. I thought back to my capture and realized that _that's_ how they were able to find me; my hiding spot wasn't obvious, it was my chakra that gave me away—which was rather disappointing and pathetic. I mean, I knew I'd never tried masking my chakra, but it couldn't be _that _hard, right? I guess the frustration of being in a smaller and unsuitable body irked me.

I felt a flicker, and I looked up. I barely recognized it, but there was a bit of familiarity to said flash that forced me to look into my memories, and think back to where I knew it from. I'm not going to lie; I couldn't put a face to it, but I knew it wasn't harmful.

The next few hours were spent by counting the amount of drops dripping from the ceiling and into a puddle not too far off from my position; my total count was 35,790,543 drops (give or take). I was bored out of my mind, and was lowering myself into counting drops. I'd rather my kidnappers come back in to pester me instead of leaving me alone with nothing but silence.

There was commotion outside—shouts, movement of fabric, the clanging of metal and a weird noise that at the time I wasn't familiar with: the usage of chakra. It didn't last long; it ended with a pained yell and then silence. I waited in silence, secretly hoping that my saviors had come to rescue me, and dreading the arrival of more enemies.

All I could do was wait in suspense.

* * *

Ha ha! You might hate me until the next chapter, but I just _had _to! As you can well see, the sadistic trait Kozue seems to have doesn't come from nothing.

I've been reading your reviews, and you guys have _no_ idea how much it means to me that you're liking my story so far! They really helped me get through this chapter. I decided to move along the plot, because, frankly, I'm getting tired of portraying Kozue as a baby.

I want to remind you that this is fanFICTION and thus, I don't have to write realistically, which is honestly what I've been doing, and I don't regret a word of it; I kind of like the twists and turns that I throw in.

For those who asked where I moved to: that would be Brazil (seeing that it's my home country and all). I've been going to Internet cafe with my green pen-drive to write this new chapter for you guys, so you're welcome.

Anyways, please review, favorite and follow, they always help a ton in the creative process.

CupcakeLoopy


	6. VI

**Top of the Tree**

**VI**

It took a while for someone to come for me. I felt my hands shake in their restraints from the adrenaline coursing through my veins, and a headache came along due to the overrunning thoughts in my brain—rather, the only thought running through my mind was "I'm safe," repeatedly, and the relief slipped over my little body like a cold shower. I was safe.

A dark figure came up to me (the lighting in that place was shit), and behind it appeared another three. It crouched in front of me and helped me up from my sprawled position on the floor. One of the figures came behind me, which immediately made me tense, and undid my bindings. Then the same crouched figure picked me up, held me protectively to its chest, and nodded slightly to its comrades.

We slid out of the place (which, turns out, was a cave), and into the night in a forest, of which I had no memory. On our way out we passed some bodies slumped on the ground. I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for them, but the poor suckers had it coming. Arriving at the cave's entrance, we stopped, and I was set down on my feet, which gave out so I was instantly on my knees instead. For the first time, I looked for my rescuers' faces, but found none; instead there were masks—ANBU, I thought lightly.

The one, who'd been holding me, once again, crouched to my level and unexpectedly removed his mask. He looked vaguely familiar with is gray hair that seemed to defy gravity, and had a ponytail trailing down his back. The other three removed their masks, and also crouched down to my level. They all placed slight smiled on their faced, probably to make me relax a little, though until I was in my mother's arms, I wouldn't feel such.

Dully, I noted that my eyes were stinging with tears that I was desperately trying to keep at bay, and my breath shaky from adrenaline. My hands were as dirty as my clothes from lying on the floor for so long. My face felt sticky from the salty tears that did escape and ran down my cheeks. I probably had some bags under my eyes due to the lack of sleep.

"Are you alright, Kozue-chan?" asked the only female of the group, with her rather bland-looking brown hair and eyes.

I probably looked a little alarmed, not expecting to be spoken to, but I answered anyway, "Yeah".

Before any of them could talk again, there was a _grumble_ noise coming from my stomach. I don't know why people seem to blush when their stomach grumbles in public, it's never affected me that way, and it never will, truthfully. The team started laughing though, not because I blushed or was embarrassed, but because I was legitimately startled by the sound that I jumped a little and yelped. Now _that_ was a reason to blush.

"We'll find somewhere safe to settle down and feed you, okay?" suggested the familiar looking one.

I nodded furiously.

We went into the forest and walked for several minutes (I was piggyback-riding on one of the men), until we found a small opening, perfect to settle down and eat. By then, the ninjas had placed their masks on their face, much to my displeasure—I wanted to be able to look at their faces and have a _hint_ as to what they were thinking. I was given an energy bar that tasted like mud—don't ask how I know that—and water. I devoured it all in one go, and was disappointed to find that I was still very hungry, but decided to ignore it for the time being. The man with the grey hair chuckled slightly, got up from his place against the tree, walked up to me and sat cross-legged. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another energy-bar and handed it over to me.

I almost squealed in delight.

Between bites I asked, "Where are we?" and as at afterthought, "and who are you people?"

"We're on the borders of Rain and Fire Country," answered one of them.

"You don't know your village's symbol?" asked the one with a monkey-like mask, pointing to his forehead protector, which was tied around his neck.

"I do," I said nonchalantly, "But you're different, you wear masks—you're ANBU, right?"

Ha! I bet they didn't expect m to know _that_.

As if on cue, "How do you know about the ANBU?" asked the woman with the bear mask.

"My Dad may have mentioned it once or twice," I continued, "what I _want_ to know are your names—you never mentioned them,"

"I'm bear, this is monkey, donkey, and wolf,"

"I meant your actual names, not codenames," I frowned in annoyance.

"Oh, we can't tell you that,"

Should have told me that earlier.

We didn't spend too much time in one place; it wasn't exactly safe with a war raging on, especially since we were so close to the actual battlefields. Before long, I was defeated by exhaustion, and fell asleep in the arms of the donkey-masked ninja. Had I been less fatigued, I would've fought to stay awake, at least until we reached home, but alas, a child can only be deprived of sleep for so long before they pass out unwillingly.

It should've been a few hours at _least_ until I woke up; unfortunately, however, I wasn't awoken by natural means, rather the contrary—I was roused by the sound of an explosion.

You know how when you're in a deep slumber, and you hear the sound of your loud alarm clock, and you wake up with a start, with your heart racing miles per hour? Yeah, that's what it felt like to be woken up by an explosion, except the ringing in my ears didn't leave me until a few days later.

An ambush, that's what happened. And I wasn't even awake enough to begin to comprehend why the hell my heart was racing, because I was thrown into a bush off to the side.

The problem of doing such?

The bush was concealing a cliff.

Now, the cliff itself wasn't all too high, but it was steep as hell, and when I fell, lets just say, I wasn't expecting it.

Bush—edge—fall—fall—branch—fall—branch—fall—floor—crack—a long scream in agony.

Actually, I heard a few cracks, and came to the conclusion that either they were branches snapping with the impact of my body, or they were my bones breaking. Sadly, I later found out that it was the latter.

I was lying on my back looking at an overcast sky, wondering to myself, why the hell did shit have to happen to me. I wondered if I'd somehow angered someone important in one of my past lives (it's plausible). And I thought to myself, not much can worsen this day. I tried to stay still, to not move at all, because what if I'd broken my neck from the fall? Moving would only worsen things.

And _that's_ when the rain started. It wasn't a simple drizzle, no—it was a goddamn thunderstorm, and there I was, lying on my fucking back, wishing that someone would kill me already.

Deciding that staying still wouldn't get me anywhere (literally and figuratively speaking) and highly annoyed by the thousands of drops patting my face, I turned my body so that I'd be lying on my stomach instead. There was a puddle, and my hair was dripping into it. I focused my vision, and gasped.

I saw my reflection.

Now that I think about it, I didn't really look much like my parents, though other people would beg to differ. I was rather plain-looking—brown unruly hair, almost black eyes, a small nose (thankfully I didn't get Hiruzen's big-ass one), and a rather round face. There were several cuts, one under, and off to the side of my right eye that I _knew _would scar, and on my upper lip, that wouldn't stop throbbing—note, I was also covering in mud from head to toe, and in places that no mud should ever be. But overall, I was nothing special; well my _appearance_ was rather ordinary, can't say the same about my personality, though.

I didn't look like my past self at all.

And for the first time since I was _reborn_, did I feel like I wasn't me; like I didn't _belong_; like I was intruding—it wasn't my body.

I shouldn't exist.

* * *

It didn't take long for my 'rescuers' to find me, though they did seem a little apologetic at throwing me off a cliff. No harm done, right? (Note sarcasm).

We arrived in Konoha a few hours later—the assholes decided to pick up the pace—soaked to the bone, and worse for wear. The rain was still ongoing, and I'd figured with my luck, I'd get the flu just to even things out.

The team left me at the hospital before reporting in, so at least I didn't remain in my cold, wet clothes for too long. Not much later after being seen to by a doctor, did the door to my room burst open with a frantic mother marching along, and behind her my two brothers (Asuma being carried by Hiro), but there was no sight of Hiruzen—that bastard. I was cooed at and coddled, for what seemed like ages, until Hiruzen decided to _grace_ us with his presence—thankfully Mom was still under the influence of pregnancy hormones and ripped him a new pair.

All in all, I was a very moody little girl, for the next weeks to come, covered head to toe in a cast, surrounded by an overly protective family. And to worsen the situation, the watching (or stalking, call it what you want) only _worsened_.

Damn it! Can't a girl get a break?

I was interrogated for a few days, and informed that I'd been gone for a full seven days (apparently there'd been rain for several days on end, so it was hard to find my kidnappers' trail). And apparently my abductors were mercenaries working for Iwa, and were hired to capture me, collect whatever information I had, and then use me for ransom (apparently they wanted to exchange me for one of the war prisoners under Konoha custody).

I sometimes wonder if Hiruzen would have made the trade.

* * *

I didn't sleep well for the next few weeks.

Ironically enough, it wasn't due to the kidnapping, or the fact that my father would have gladly given up my life for the good of the village; it was the fall of the cliff and the pain upon impact with the floor that kept replaying in my head every time I closed my eyes. I'd wake up drenched in cold sweat screaming and crying.

My parents didn't know what to do—when I started screaming in my sleep, I'd accidentally wake up Asuma, and he'd scream even louder that me, and it didn't help that we had to share a room (the never ending rain had flooded half of our house's first floor, so Asuma was currently staying in my room).

The only time that I'd actually settle down was when Hiro would let me sleep with him in his bedroom. It was the only time I'd ever feel safe—Dad had, time and time again, failed to protect me, and indirectly so had Mom. Sometimes I felt like Hiro was the only one who genuinely cared about my wellbeing. And that only made me love him more, but it also made me resent my parents a little—Hiruzen more than Mom.

I couldn't blame Mom for being neglected, because she had just had a baby, and I recognize that Asuma should always come first (now more than ever, seeing that I'm also responsible for his safety), but even so, she tried to make up for forgetting about me with many hugs and kissed. I was able to forgive her (not that she really needed forgiving in the first place), because she had never betrayed my trust, and there was never a hint of doubt that she'd protect me with her life.

Unfortunately I wasn't able to do the same with my father, because there were bigger things than me, in his life. And I was competing with an entire village for his attention—for his protection.

I couldn't help but hate it.

And despise him for it.

* * *

That's it for chapter six! I told my sister what I was planning to do with this chapter and she asked, "why are you torturing Kozue? Isn't she supposed to be you?" and then I answered her: "Life has been a bitch to me lately, and thus it'll be a bitch to Kozue as well".

Truth be told, I enjoyed torturing her far too much, and that makes me wonder what kind of person am I to do such to a character that supposedly reflects me.

Now that I think about it, she also asked me why I'm writing so many chapters of baby Kozue, and I've come up with a reason: we don't know much about the past in the Naruto manga. And usually the OCs are from the canon timeline, and not from before it, so since we don't know much about the past, I have to make up for it by inventing crap and filling in the gaps.

Guys! 100+ review and 250+ follows and faves! I had no idea this would be so popular. I think the biggest compliment from you guys is when you say that Kozue isn't a Mary Sue—you can't begin to imagine how hard I try to keep her away from the MS-ness. I was very tempted to make Kozue a kickass baby who could beat the four idiots on her own, but decided against it; I also wanted to throw more crap at her, but that's borderline evil, so I stuck to the falling off a cliff thing—now thinking about it like that makes me feel a little guilty.

Anyways, next chapter Kozue starts the Academy (finally)!

Stay tuned,

CupcakeLoopy


	7. VII

**Top of the Tree**

**VII**

The first day at the academy was a day I'd been dreading since I discovered I was in the Naruto universe. It was the day I was hoping to push back the furthest possible, but there's only so much delaying you can do before your parents notice.

I was able to postpone my entry into the academy for two years; first because of the kidnapping, my parents didn't want to let me out of their sight; and second because I was finally able to read decently enough to start classes. So at the lovely age of five, I was enrolled into the system.

Everyone, the children and their parents, were gathered in the courtyard in front of the school building. There were some people I recognized, not because I knew them, but because I knew the clan traits they owned (Hyuga, Uchiha, Aburame, Nara, Yamanaka, and Akimichi). There was a large board to the left, where the children were taking turns in checking their names, to see if they were accepted into the academy (though they probably were, seeing that we were at war, and needed every ninja we could get our hands on), and there was a small stage to the right of the main entrance, where I wager the Hokage would give a speech of some sort.

I arrived with my family in tow, and simply froze—this was it, there was no turning back, unless I wanted to disappoint people and make myself seem cowardly. I'd never seen so many people gathered together in one place, all of them with happy expressions on their faces (except, maybe, the Hyuga and Uchiha), and for the life of me, I couldn't understand why. The only thing I could feel was dread, and maybe a little resentment—because like it or not, I was being forced to become a ninja, not because of my parents, but for the sake of holding up appearances, not to mention I was supposed to serve a village I held no love for.

I was pushed into the direction of the board by ten-year-old Hiro—who's brown hair was reaching his shoulders, much to Mom's furious displeasure, and his height twice the size of mine—and received a slight nod from Hiruzen, before moving. I knew I'd been accepted, I was the village leader's daughter after all, and he'd been trying to enroll me ever since I turned three (my Mom almost killed him for suggesting it, though). I suppose what scared me was the symbolism of it all, and how I was quickly approaching my death, or the board, call it what you will.

I started looking for my name under the 'S' column. It didn't take long to find _Sarutobi Kozue 302_ written, and for some odd reason, I felt a bit of relief, which didn't make sense at all, seeing that I abhorred the idea of becoming a ninja, and thrusting my foot into an early grave.

I turned around and headed into the direction of my family, which were located between the Nara and Hyuga clan. There I recognized other Sarutobi children, around the same age range as myself, lurking the premises and sometimes talking to a kid or another.

There was a group being alienated by everyone further in the back; there weren't any adults with them, and they all seemed a pretty lost, and certainly looked out of place. Their clothes were hand-me-down, worn and torn in the oddest places. They hair was unkempt and unruly. They looked at the families with an underlying envy, and I couldn't blame them at all.

They were orphans, recruited to be ninjas, because no one would miss them if they died.

The mere thought made my stomach churn in disgust; they were probably only there because it was the only way out of that shit hole of an orphanage. I weighed the option of going up to those kids and try to engage in a conversation, but then I remembered that I was everything they weren't: a child with a family, clan, and status; they'd probably think I was mocking them, or pitied their situation. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat, one I hadn't noticed before, and headed back to where my family was.

By the time Hiruzen was supposed to give his speech, all the children who were accepted into the academy were lined up in alphabetical order, while the parents stood in the back, trying not to interfere. The speech itself was rather anticipated; he went on to talk about the _Will of Fire_, the concept that love brings peace (which is a bunch of bullshit, in my opinion), and how we were supposed to act as leaf ninja, protecting civilians, and the younger generations etc.

I mainly stood in my place with a bored look on my face, which seemed to peeve Hiruzen, who kept stealing glances at me whenever he had the chance, which in return irked me. By the time the kids were getting restless, the speech ended and we were sent to our classes, mine being 302 (second classroom on the third floor).

The classroom was styled as one would in college, like bleachers, descending in levels. I was one of the first to arrive, so I had the privilege to choose a spot in the back (I didn't want to attract too much attention), and close to the window (just for the view). There was also the fact that it was a school for ninjas, so you didn't want to lower your guard and have your back be a blatant bull's-eye.

Placing my elbow on the desk, I rested my head on my hand and turned my attention towards the window. I felt the little chakra signatures filter into the classroom, but I didn't bother to memorize them, after all, half of them would give up along the road, and the other half would die on the battle field by the time they'd reach ten.

It scared me how very expendable we were.

And I wondered if I'd have the same fate as everyone else.

The teacher presented himself (though I don't think I ever really learned his name) and went on to call out each student's name on his list. He'd look up at each kid with their hand raised signaling their presence, to memorize their faces. When he went to call on my name, however, everyone turned around to look at me. I molded my expression to boredom, to mask my embarrassment at being stared at by forty-some kids. There were a lot of whispered going on like "_that's_ her" and "_I_ heard from _my_ dad that _blah, blah, blah,". _Honestly, it's like they'd just never seen such a good-looking face like mine before.

I returned my attention to the window.

* * *

I didn't have many friends.

I can honestly say I didn't care too much for my fellow students, they were all dumb and childish, and all thought of me as a snobby little princess (which, for the time being, I won't deny). So, for the most part, I spent my days gazing out of the window, trying to will time to go by faster, though it never did.

But there's another reason why I didn't have friends.

I didn't want them.

Not because I was anti-social (though I admit to being so, but only a bit), I didn't want to open up, or rather; I didn't allow myself to do so. Because we were at war, and without sheer luck, none of us would survive to see the end of it (which absolutely terrified me, seeing that I'd already lost one life; I couldn't afford to lose another, especially so early on).

There were some people who tried to approach me, most of which I'd simply ignore. And because of that, they thought that I thought I was superior to them, as if I was better than them in every aspect. I'm not going to deny that; for the most part, I was better than all the students in my year, but only because I had an advantage; I had the mind of a thirty-some-year-old woman who was rather experienced in the act of war.

I was great at theory and math class and even history, but when putting it all to good use, I sucked. Bad. As if I'd calculate the angle of a tree and my target to shoot a kunai on the battlefield. Please. And it's not like I wasn't athletic (which I wasn't because I was a child, and hardly had the time to build up muscle and hinder my growth), or uncoordinated. My real problem is that I was taught a different way (how to fight; how to hold a knife, in this case a kunai; how to say this, do that etc.).

And as cliché as it may sound, old habits die-hard.

So I'd go home and train all afternoon because I had to be the best—it was just a feeling that I had where, in my other life, I didn't. It was the despicable feeling, or need, to prove something to someone. And in this case, it was my Dad.

He used reverse psychology on me, and as hard as I tried to resist, I couldn't. He'd say in a very (fake) kind voice that if I ever thought I wasn't capable of being a ninja, if I wanted to give up, I could. Now, from the start it was all a nice basket of bullshit, and I knew it too, but for some reason I had a nagging feeling, shouting at me, to prove him wrong, to rub my awesome accomplishments in his face; to have the last laugh.

So really what got me through the academy in two years flat was all because of my father and his weird parenting style.

To sum it up, I was the aloof kid who sat in the back and didn't talk, daughter of the Hokage, who had a problem with physical exercises. Might I add, miserably friendless? I'd like to think that those two years of my life were only fillers; bridges that connected to the larger picture. But I felt utterly alone, for the most part—I'd observe my surroundings and find that everyone was sporting a smile with their friends, and enjoying their childhood, while I wasn't.

I felt like I was wasting precious time—time that I'd never be able to get back—time to be a kid, for once in my life—time of peace, even though there hardly was peace.

In the beginning of my second year at the academy, however, I made my first friend: Shizune. Granted it'd been a few years since I had last seen her, but frankly I was glad to see a familiar face.

I didn't have a reputation of being friendly, so when I approached her, she was rather surprised, having heard the rumors of my cold attitude.

"You were born in my house," I said bluntly.

I don't think she had much to say to that, because she nodded slowly, as if trying to comprehend where the hell I was taking this conversation to.

"Right,"

"My Mom helped, she's a medic,"

Again with the slow nod, she seemed a bit shy.

"Did you just enroll into the academy?" I asked.

She shook her head. I suppose she wasn't a person of many words.

"Do you like it here?"

"Yes," she squeaked.

"Oh,"

Now, I'm not going to say that I was proud of our little conversation—I was damn right embarrassed by it, it's like all my social skills had been flushed down the toilet—but it was certainly a start. After that, I started joining Shizune for lunch, because she too didn't have many friends (she was a shy butterfly).

And somehow, we bonded over silence.

* * *

Another school day ended and I walked home alone in the late afternoon; no group of friends to slow me down or keep me company. The sky was purple with the setting of the sun, and being a particularly windy day, I huddled into my coat, occasionally shivering along with the leaves.

I'd gotten used to the stalking, and occasionally tried to convince myself that it wasn't harmful, only watchful, waiting to save me if something ever went wrong. Of course, in the back of my mind, I always reminded myself that it could also very well be an enemy ninja, of some sort, waiting for me to let my guard down. Either way, I suppose it was common routine for my shoulders to be as tall as my chin with stress and tension.

I turned a corner into a crowded street, taking my time to get home; Hiruzen and Mom were working late that day, Hiro was on a mission outside of the village, and Asuma was spending some quality time with one of my distant relatives (aka babysitting). I was in no a hurry to return to a dark, cold house.

A few kids ran my way and accidentally bumped into me, which I knew was anything but accidental. My book-bag fell to the floor, spreading all of its content in a foot's radius. For a moment I just stood there cursing those kids, and the shitty day I was having, not quite believing that it could get much worse. I gave a long sigh, remembering that standing like an idiot wouldn't magically collect my things back into their places, and crouched.

And then I felt some weird warm substance fall all over me, and heard a yelp in surprise. Along with my scattered belongings was a twenty-year-old man and countless containers of ramen.

Déjà vu, right?

So at the end of things, I was once again found myself sitting on a stool, in a ramen stand, eating said ramen for free as an apology (which, frankly, I didn't mind, despite the fact that I smelled like the food I was eating).

"We have to stop meeting like this," said Teuchi.

I gave him a half-smile and returned to my food.

As usual, the ramen was as good as the first time I'd eaten it (I'd actually been to Ichiraku's a few times since then). The things that did change, however, were Teuchi and his height. The boy was twice as tall as me (I was a pretty small seven-year-old), and probably twice as wide too. But his kind smile and disposition remained untouched.

It really hit me how fast time had flown by. And how it brings so many changes, as it had brought to me, even though I hate to admit.

We chatted a bit; I learned new things like how he had gone to the academy but dropped out in the final year, when he discovered his love for food, or rather, ramen. And I told him how I didn't have many friends at the academy. He asked me why, and I told him: "I don't want them," though I'm not sure I quite believed it.

I left after finishing my ramen and promising to visit more.

Arriving at the Sarutobi compound (much like all the other prominent clans, the Sarutobi have a small part of the village reserved for the housing of its members) I headed for my neighbor's house, where I'd pick up little Asuma.

The kid had grown in the last four years, and so far, I'd been able to keep the promise I made of protecting him. He took after Hiruzen in appearance, but personality-wise he was a little coo-coo—and stubborn—like me. Now, as a big sister I should be proud, and all that shit, but if anything, it annoys the hell out of me. Asuma's acts like me, and I can't help but think that one is _more_ that enough—my parents would most likely agree, I mean, the only reason I don't get into more trouble at school is because the kids are afraid I'd tattle them to "my daddy", though I'd probably just kick their asses instead.

With Asuma holding my hand, we headed to our house (right at the end of the compound, furthest from the entrance), and opened the door to the empty house. I turned the lights on, led Asuma to the living room with some of his toys, and headed to the kitchen to make some tea (granted I preferred coffee, but I didn't want to start an addiction so early on in my life). I returned to the living room, grabbed my book-bag, which I'd left on the floor next to the entrance, and settled onto the couch, ready to start some homework.

The rattling of toys stopped abruptly and I looked up from my reading to see what was going on with Asuma. He was staring at me with a confused look.

I sighed and blinked slowly before asking, "What's wrong, Asuma-chan?"

"Don't you have friends?" he asked.

"Not really, no," I answered him honestly.

"Don't you get lonely, though?" he asked, his voice almost coated with pity.

"Nah," I said with a wolfish grin, "I've got you,"

"But I'm not enough," he protested.

"Asuma-chan," my gaze softened, "you are all I'll ever need".

* * *

That last scene was hell to write! I've been planning a scene with those two forever, but it just wouldn't come out the way I wanted it to.

So just to recap, there's been a four-year time skip (first day at the academy, where Kozue is five, to the time she rencounters Shizune, when she's seven). I just thought it's pointless to drag these things on for too long, because there's just so much time I have to make up for to catch up to the original story.

Thank you guys so much for the reviews, fallows, and favorites! They sure help brighten my day, sometimes more so than a newly aired episode of Game of Thrones (love!).

Thanks for reading,

CupcakeLoopy.


	8. VIII

**Top of the Tree**

**VIII**

I've decided not to ponder on useless "what ifs".

It's a waste of time and a complete let down.

Starting on a thought—an innocent one, at that—'what if I had chocolate ice-cream instead of vanilla,' all of a sudden turns into 'what if I hadn't been born into the Sarutobi clan?'

That'd certainly solve my hopeless daddy issues.

I'm not going to lie: I'm jealous.

Unfortunately, however, I have these disgusting feelings towards something completely abstract.

I wanted the attention that my father only spared for the village, his job.

I couldn't understand why he was so passionate towards a village—literally a mass of buildings. I suppose you're thinking: "it's the people inside said village that matters", but really that's just a bunch of cheesy bullshit. I didn't join the army in my first life due to patriotism. Hell, I honestly joined because I was bored and had nothing to do with my life, so I thought, "Hey, why don't I join the army? That'll certainly help me pay my college loans". Human beings are selfish little creatures that only have one thought in their minds: survival. If anyone tells you differently, you know, right off the bat, said person is lying.

Now, I don't _hate_ Konoha. It is, after all, my home and I've grown fond of it throughout the years. I may dislike it mildly because of my bitterness, but I don't hate it. So don't start thinking that I'll abandon the village and become a missing-nin because it's not going to happen, at least I think it won't. But I can't foretell what the future holds, for all I know, I'll become the next Hokage (though truthfully I have _no_ intention of doing so). Besides, I was still an academy student.

Like any other afternoon I was in our backyard (which, by the way, was pretty big) training. I had started off with a few warm ups, and continued to test my weaponry on the targets by the tree line.

_Swish. Swish. Thud. Swish. Thud._

I heard a slam from the house, notifying the arrival of someone into the yard (though, technically, I'd felt the person's presence before their appearance). I paused and looked in said direction to find that Hiro had just arrived from his weeklong C-rank mission. He gave me a carefree smile and approached my heavily breathing form. Without thinking, I ran to his own moving self and attacked him with a hug, tackling him to the floor.

It'd been hard for me to get used to his extended absences. Unintentionally I would sit in a corner and brood for hours a day, missing his presence. Hell, even Mom noticed my moping self and worried. Hiro was my rock, and I missed my rock's company.

"When did you get back?" I asked with a grand smile stretched across my face.

"Just now," he said with an easygoing half-smile.

He brushed his shoulder length hair behind his ear; his forehead protector was hanging proudly across his brow. I had this annoying urge to rip it off his head and throw it into the distance, but folded up the thought and swallowed it.

"You training?" he asked, motioning his head towards the abused targets.

"Yeah," I muttered, a little embarrassed, seeing that only half of the kunai hit their targets.

"Not bad," Hiro commented.

I scoffed. Yeah right.

The twelve-year-old pulled out a kunai from his pouch. He aimed and threw the knife. The object made a sharp _swish,_ cutting through air, and hit the dead center of the bull's eye with a _thud._

No doubt my eyes were glimmering with admiration.

Against my will, of course.

"It's all in the wrist," he said, taking out another kunai and offering it to me.

I stared at it warily before wrapping my skinny hand around it. Hiro motioned me to throw the kunai. There was a _swish_ but instead of a _thud_, was the shifting of leaves. My form shrank in disappointment. I'd missed.

Instead of laughing at my incompetence, however, Hiro simply took another kunai out and placed it in my hand, though he didn't let go. He placed my hand in a throwing position and made a throwing motion, using his other hand to flex my wrist. And he let go. And I threw.

_Swish._ _Thud._

Ginormous Smile.

Hiro ruffled my hair, "now _that's_ how it's done".

I felt a spike of chakra behind me—it felt like a feather brushing against my skin making me involuntary shiver, raising goosebumps across my arms.

There was the slam of the door and little footsteps crumpling the grass beneath little feet, running towards us.

"Ni-san!" yelled an overexcited Asuma, "you're back!"

Asuma, too, tackled Hiro to the ground.

He asked what we were doing, and went on to beg us to teach him (how to throw sharp objects). I was apprehensive. I didn't touch a real kunai until I started at the academy, and even then they were blunt, so in all honesty, the same should be done for Asuma (who was four, and had yet to start on the road to ninja-dom). Thankfully Hiro had the same idea, and refused to put his youngest sibling in danger.

There was certainly a lot of whining and foot stomping. Hiro turned to me a bit peeved, and almost in tune, we rolled our eyes. So what if we'd spoiled Asuma a little? I won't deny it, his attitude was most likely my fault; I couldn't resist his pouting face. Hiro, though, having learned with my own puppy eyes, had become more resistant to the cuteness.

Blatantly ignoring Asuma, Hiro turned to me, "Isn't the graduation exam next month?"

I paled and muttered reluctantly, "yeah,"

Being the ever observant brother, Hiro noticed my reaction and raised a brow, "Why the face?"

I paused.

"I don't want to die,"

"You won't"

I looked at him, feeling slightly enraged that he'd lie to me.

"You don't know that,"

"Yeah I do,"

I almost shouted, "No, you _don't_".

"We're at war, Hiro! Anyone can die at any second, you and I included. That's what it means to be a ninja: to kill and to die! I'm going to die, you're going to die, Mom and Dad are going to die, and so will Asuma! And I guarantee it'll be in the line of duty".

There was an incredibly suffocating silence. Asuma had ended his tantrum and was looking at me with wide eyes, much like Hiro. They'd never seen me make such a scene; I was usually silent and composed. They didn't know I was so pessimistic, that I viewed ninja in such a way. They didn't really know me at all.

I walked up to the target by the trees and pulled out the kunai, ignoring completely the boys.

My hands were shaking.

"I'm not ready to die," I whispered to myself. _Not again._

I couldn't face them.

I heard Mom call us for dinner, but ignored and continued my task. Two chakra signatures, instead of getting further away from me, only got closer. I was crouched when I felt two pairs of arms wrap around me in a hug. I didn't turn around, nor did I tense. I just stared at the floor, willing my tears not to slide down my face.

I got up from my crouched position and headed towards the house, leaving my brothers behind.

Stepping into the building, Mom shot me a questioning look, but I just ignored it, mumbling that I wasn't hungry and was going to sleep early.

Of course, I didn't sleep at all that night.

* * *

One of my many flaws is my inability to move on; to walk it off. I tended to sulk endlessly, hold grudges, and live some event over and over again. I wouldn't turn my back and walk forward, because invisible, unmoving hands were holding me back. And they never let go.

It's the reason why I spent the next few weeks sulking.

It was lunchtime at the academy and I was sitting on a bench eating the food Mom prepared for me in my bento box. Shizune was home with the flu, so I was eating alone. I was dejected and alone.

A group of idiot boys came up to me with sneers smacked on their faces. I faced them warily, but refused to move a muscle.

The leader of the group, a big-nosed snot started talking, "Why so sad, princess? Did mommy forget to brush your pretty hair this morning?"

I snorted, if that's how he wanted to rile me up, he was doing it wrong (I mean, I didn't really care to brush my hair ever, so why that comment now, anyway?), "Aw, you think my hair's pretty?"

The boys behind said leader snickered.

"Shut up! You think you're the best at everything, with your nose in the clouds!" he shouted, "no one likes you! Not even your daddy,"

He was probably right, but even so, I punched him in the face.

It's not that was angry with what the kid said. I couldn't care less, but I felt like I should let out all of the rage I had bottled up inside of me, resulting in a big bloody nosed kid. Man, it felt good.

Surprised by my rashness, no one moved for what felt for hours, but was probably only a few seconds.

Then there was some sort of war cry, not an epic one like, "this is Sparta!" but a pathetic boyish screech, which had I been in another situation, I would have laughed out loud.

Feet shuffled.

Two brats attacked me, on each side, trying to punch my stomach. I pulled one of their hands and shoved him in the direction of the other and they lost their balance and fell on the floor. Another one stepped forward, but I didn't give him the chance to throw a punch. I kicked him in the balls and he crumbled to the floor.

The leader of the little gang got up with his busted nose and tripped forward. My foot hit the bench behind, and my attention was diverted. Next thing I knew, I felt a splitting pain around my eye. The sonofabitch punched me!

I let out a chuckle, in disbelief.

The boys shrank in fear.

They were _so_ going to get it.

I let out my own epic war cry and attacked.

Punch—kick—kick—groan in pain—slap—slap—elbow—punch—punch—bite.

I arrived home that night sporting black eye and a proud smile.

I never felt like such a kid.

* * *

At dinner, my parents kept glancing at me worriedly, wondering if I'd explode on them too. Apparently my teacher caught wind of what happened and told my parents (which honestly doesn't make sense, seeing that the academy promoted violence). I ignored their wary looks and continued eating.

Hiro nudged me, "Nice eye,"

I smirked, and my parents shot a disapproving look at him.

"Kozue, why did you attack those kids?" Hiruzen asked.

"They provoked me." I shrugged.

"Is that even possible?" asked Hiro, more jokingly that anything.

"Obviously,"

I could tell my parents were at loss as to what to say. Hiro seemed a little amused at my attitude. He was the one who always showed defiance towards the 'norm'. Ironically, most of the time he was the one fighting with my father about his ideals and what not. I usually kept to myself, believing that I was 'too young' to understand such matters. And Asuma, like always, was confused as to why his 'nee-chan' was so angry for no apparent reason (seeing that all he ever wanted to do was be a ninja and 'fight bad guys').

My parents were gaping, Hiro was observing me carefully with a poker face but there was laughter hidden in his eyes, and Asuma simply blinked in puzzlement with his wide brown eyes.

I laughed inwardly. Their reaction was amusing.

"I've heard that you don't want to be a ninja," Mom started.

I tensed. Now _that_ was a complicated subject, especially in Hiruzen's presence. Damn that tattle tail Hiro.

"What of it?"

"Well, do you want to continue going to the academy?"

I masked my face with mock surprise, "I have a choice?"

There was a pregnant pause. Everyone was looking at me as if I had grown a second head. Never had I been so rebellious, or so they think. I didn't usually talk back to my parents.

"Of course, honey," Mom answered, recovering from the shock first.

"Really? I was under the impression that I had to keep up appearances,"

No one denied it.

My stomach churned.

"I'm finished. Can I go to my room?" I left without giving my parents the room for an answer.

As I passed Hiruzen, I didn't miss the calculating look my father had as he followed my form out of the room with his eyes.

I had no intention of _not_ becoming a ninja. To survive in this strange world I had to learn to protect myself, even if it meant giving myself to the system; to protect something I didn't believe in. Hiruzen knew I was going to be a problem. I wanted to know if he'd have the guts for make that problem go away.

Too bad Hiruzen doesn't know how much of a problem I could be if I tried.

* * *

PHEW! That was one hard motherfucker of a chapter! I've been trying to write this for the better part of the month! Seeing that I try to update monthly, and this month is ending, I almost missed my due date!

Have I ever mentioned how much I love you guys? No? Well then, let's fix that.

I LOVE YOU ALL!

Thank you so much for the countless faves, follows and reviews! You have no idea how much they helped me get past this difficult chapter.

Finally Kozue stops her passive aggressive act! I had so much fun writing her blow up countless of times, and the sarcasm (squeal)!

I'm sorry guys, I'm just so happy because I just read the latest chapter in the manga, and I almost burst in tears in the last page! Team seven reunited!

Anyways, I hope you guys remember that I love your comments and faves and follows, so please let them continue!

Next chapter, graduation exams!

Sorry for the excessive exclamation points,

CupcakeLoopy

P.S. If you're interested, there's a link to the drawings of Kozue as a child and as a teen on my profile page.


	9. IX

**Top of the Tree**

**IX**

The classroom was the epitome of silence.

Too nervous to utter a sound, the soon-to-be ninjas sat anxiously waiting for their names to be called by the instructor—waiting their turn. If anything, it seemed as if their were waiting on their execution, however unlucky for me, my last meal was _not_ lobster bisque soup. Ironically enough, perhaps unintentionally, they_ were_ being sent to their deaths. But thankfully they were still on the 'F's, so I still had time to have a major meltdown and recover before my name was called.

From what I'd experienced, there were three exams. Two of them were practical, and one was written. The first practical was the weapon and fighting exam, though there was probably a more specific name to it. The purpose was to evaluate our abilities in battle—fighting, throwing weapons, stealth—in which there wasn't an exact grading system, though if you sucked I'm sure they wouldn't let you become a ninja. Depending on how well you did, from what I've come to understand, they'd assess your skills to put you in a team with contrasting abilities to balance out the overall strength. I did relatively well in this part—granted, I wasn't above hitting "below the belt", which I think might have raise a few eyebrows, but I defeated my opponents (classmates who were on a similar physical level as my own). I hit all the targets with my weapons (thanks to Hiro), fought the kinds and defeated them, and finally when it came to testing my stealth, I hid expertly. For an academy student, anyway.

The second practical was to test how in tune with your chakra you are. The instructor would ask you to preform an E-rank jutsu (which was really fascinating to learn). Depending on the year, they ask for a different jutsu—Bunshin no Jutsu, Kawarimi no Jutsu, or Henge no Jutsu. Though if you failed this test, there was no becoming a ninja, even if you went well on the other two exams. I hadn't taken that exam yet.

The written part of the exam was rather easy, with hypothetical 'what would you do' questions—I half expected one of them to ask me who I would bring with me if I were stranded on a deserted island. It was kind of pathetic, and there wasn't an ounce of the subject that we learned in classes on the paper. All they wanted to know was what would you do if this or that happened, and by the time I was done with the written exam, I couldn't stand to hear a sentence start with 'what would you do', even if it was all in my head.

I had come home that night with a tiny ball of satisfaction rolling in my gut, knowing that I had passed, but I couldn't for the life of me understand why—I was against my becoming a ninja, so why did I feel relief to have gotten so far, to have stepped closed to the ultimate goal? Dinner was served, and for some reason, the clattering of the eating utensils seemed louder than normal. Hiruzen was running late, and Hiro was away on a mission, so the only ones sitting at the table were Asuma, Mom and I—and both of them knew that the subject of 'ninja' was a touchy one, so neither spoke, leaving a very uncomfortable silence hanging in the air.

Soon enough, Hiruzen arrived, so the indisputable question was asked, "How did you do on your exam?"

Half of me was tempted to blatantly ignore him, and continue eating, but I was afraid of what he would do to get an answer out of me.

The other half wanted to say 'don't ask questions you already know the answer to', but instead I swallowed a mouthful of rice, and said casually "you tell me".

"I beg your pardon?" He asked testily, and Mom shot me a warning look.

"You're the Hokage, Dad. You already know if I did well or not on the exam, so _you tell me_," I knew I shouldn't push him, but there was a part of me that wanted to get a reaction out of him, one that I'd never seen before.

Almost glaring at me, he said dryly, "You passed with flying colors,"

"Why do you sound so disappointed?" I asked with a mocking smile stretching across my face.

"I'm not," straitening himself on his seat, his spine meeting the back of the chair.

It seemed that I had made him uncomfortable.

I bowed my head to take another bite, during which my hair concealed my face, and I whispered, "Could've fooled me".

I'm positive no one heard me.

The silence in the classroom was starting to annoy me—maybe it was because it made me restless, or maybe I was just used to the chatter of kids all the time. The quietness was unsettling, and I didn't like it.

I spent most of my time waiting looking out the window. The day was overcast and had a particular gloominess to it, which was just fitting for the day's event. The wind was short on up-rooting the trees in the academy's courtyard, and half way through the practice exam, it started raining; such only managed to put the to-be ninjas on an even steeper edge.

There were about five more students in the classroom when my name was called.

For a split second, time stopped.

I got up from my seat in the back of the room, and slowly approached the exit, which was in the front of the classroom. Taking each step, there was only one thought running through my head, over and over again.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I stepped into the neighboring classroom, where three instructors were sitting behind a desk, evaluation papers in front of them; there were a couple of forehead protectors on a side table, too many for the remaining five students in the other classroom. A couple of people probably didn't pass—good for them, they will probably live longer.

The teachers greeted me, and examined the evaluation papers for a couple of minutes, probably comparing how I did in the last two tests. The instructor in the middle, with green floppy hair hanging over his forehead protector looked up with an unreadable expression on his face. I had a feeling that I'd done well on the previous tests, but the fact that I look pretty harmless can't exactly be ignored. No one would believe that a four-foot wide-eyed little girl could hold a weapon in her hand and use it, let alone kill someone.

"When you're ready, we'd like you to preform the Kawarimi no Jutsu," he spoke as the other two instructors on his side returned their attentions to me.

I concentrated my chakra into a thin layer around my body like an armor, where I imagined a string reaching out to an object with similar body mass. The string snapped like a rubber band and I muttered, "Kawarimi no Jutsu." In a second, I was no longer standing in front of the instructors—I was far off to the left where I had replaced my body with the desk that held all the forehead protectors. The only sound in the room was a 'pop' and a loud clatter of metal falling to the ground.

There was a pause.

"You pass," the instructor to the left said, and I returned to my place in front of them. One of the other instructors grabbed on of the plates with the leaf symbol on it and handed it to me.

"Please return to class tomorrow at nine in the morning to be assigned a team. And don't forget to turn in your ninja-registration forms at the Hokage tower by the end of today,"

I stood there stunned, still trying to take in the man's words.

"Thank you," I said, though I wasn't sure if I was thanking them for the forehead protector; thanking them for teaching me; thanking them for letting me pass the exam; or thanking them for sending me to my death.

Walking out of the academy in a daze, I was about to reach the school's entrance when I turned around. I stared at the building for what felt like hours, committing every little detail to memory. The overly large oak-tree with the swing that no one used—the cracked windows—the once white walls were now an aged grayish brown. I had no intention of returning there.

I turned around and headed to the city center. The examination had gone through the entire morning, and I really needed a bite to eat, not to mention I had to hand in my ninja registration form.

On an empty road, I reached into my pocket and grabbed my new forehead protector. I stared, at loss of what to do with it—no quite wanting to give up apprehensiveness towards being a ninja; I slipped it back into my pouch, and continued walking.

Approaching Ichiraku's, I peeked under the curtains and noticed that it wasn't empty as usual. I sighed and took a stool, not really looking at anyone—I felt out of it, like I'd been defeated, humiliated.

Teuchi came to get my order enthusiastically, commenting how I'd been absent for the last few months. I just shrugged and said that I'd been busy, which wasn't a lie—the last couple of weeks leading to graduation had been more hellish than usual. They basically tested us every day in every subject—there was even one day that one of the instructors threw a mass of kunai at the students, luckily I was paying attention instead of dozing off like usual, otherwise I would've been impaled by the insanely sharp objects. Hell, it was a rarity in itself if I could just stop for a second and _breath_.

"Well, I'll be damned! If it isn't little Kozue-chan," I heard a boisterous voice from my right.

Like a deer caught in headlights, I startled looked around to find the origin on the voice. Sitting at the far side of the ramen stand was Jiraiya and Minato grinning at me. I'm not quite sure how I managed to miss them; they were so… bright, my future as a ninja was looking very bleak. Minato was now standing at full height at the age of seventeen, with his blond hair almost brushing past his shoulders, Jiraiya, however, hadn't changed at all.

"Oh," I muttered, still a little surprised, "Hi".

"Well, haven't you grown up," Jiraiya said with a huge grin that occupied most of his face, "Get any prettier than that, and you'll be breaking hearts left and right,"

Blushing slightly, I didn't say anything. I couldn't get over the fact that I wasn't a baby anymore, and I could actually answer to what he said. Hell, I just found it wrong that he was trying to flatter a seven-year-old.

"Pervert," I said without thinking, and looked into my bowl of ramen.

I heard Minato bark with laughter and Jiraiya start to whine pathetically. I ignored them and continue to eat my pork ramen.

"I heard from you dad you were graduating from the academy soon," Jiraiya continues.

"Excited?" Minato asked.

I pulled out the forehead protector out of my pouch and dropped it on the table.

With a bored look on my face, and the enthusiasm of a Nara, I answered, "Ecstatic".

A little stunned, the two burst out in laughter, leaving a quiet me, trying to figure out what exactly was so funny.

"Well aren't you chipper," said Minato after almost chocking on his food.

"No more than father," I said dryly, sending him a peeved glance.

"How's the old man taking it, anyway?" asked Jiraiya.

Surprised he didn't already know, I answered, "He's just happy he'll have a new soldier to add to his ranks,"

"You can't really believe that," he countered.

I didn't know what to believe anymore.

"You'd be surprised," I answered.

There was a pregnant silence, which was broken with the slurping of noodles.

"You weren't this pessimistic when you were younger," commented Jiraiya.

"Please, I was a baby. Now I'm old enough to have an opinion on things," I fired back, annoyed that he just wouldn't leave me alone to sulk for a little.

"How come you're not wearing your forehead protector?" interrupted Minato.

I was silent for a while, not quite sure what to say.

"I'm not a ninja," I spoke slowly, "Not yet, anyway,"

"Of course you are!" responded Jiraiya.

"I won't be a ninja until I meet my team and go through a genin test with them," and then as an afterthought I added, "I won't be a ninja until I've looked at death in the face,"

"It's the teacher's choice to give the test or not, and you don't have to go through something life-threatening to be a ninja,"

"Seeing that I'm the Hokage's daughter, I'll definitely have to go through it. Can you imagine my Father being biased to me? Besides, at my current state, I'm no more harmless than fly,"

"The old man wants the best for you. And you can only get the best if you're pushed a little," Jiraiya tried to reason, "And looking at death in the face isn't something to look forward to,"

"Well, I'm pushing back," I said finishing my bowl of ramen, "And believe me, I'm not looking forward to it,"

Leaving some money on the counter to pay for the food, I pocketed my forehead protector and left the stand. I walked through the busy streets of the restaurant row at the end of lunchtime. There were all kinds of people short, tall, chubby, skinny, old, new, and all of them looked satisfied with their stomachs filled from their lunch. But every now and then I'd spot an orphaned child with the look of starvation, and tried comparing the two.

I knew I'd arrived to the tower when the amount of civilians decreased, and all you could really see were people with forehead protectors tied around random places.

I entered the building and approached the front desk; it only took one glance for the secretary to recognize me.

"Sarutobi-san, how can I help you?" asked the soft-spoken secretary. She'd been working at this post for a better part of my life, yet I didn't know her name; it bothered me that I didn't really care.

"I'm here to fill out my ninja registration forms," I said, as she glanced at me.

"Did you graduate?" she asked randomly.

I said yes and she continued to look for something on my body. Then it hit me, my forehead protector. I took it out of my pocked and showed it to her, she then nodded and gave me the forms, saying that I could take my picture with their on-call photographer. I quickly filled in the form and headed towards the second floor, where I knew I'd find the photographer. He took a quick headshot, and I thanked him, before going to the fifth floor to hand in the forms. Much like the secretary, he was suspicious of me until I flashed him my forehead protector.

Before my father could even notice that I was in the building, I left.

I wandered to a familiar red-wooden bridge that connected the land where a flowing river stood in-between. I looked down at the water, and just watched it drift.

My hands fished the metal plate from my pocket that now symbolized my status.

I took a minute to study it.

The forehead protector reflected the setting sun's light. The symbol of a leaf was etched in a swirl.

I hesitated, but sighed in defeat.

Reaching towards my head I placed the protector on my forehead and reached behind to tie the knot.

I glared at my reflection in the water.

I was a ninja now.

* * *

That was so fun to write!

I'm sorry that I can't really write more that 3000 words, because I get restless, and feel the need to update the soonest possible. I _might_, and I emphasize 'might', update the tenth chapter still this month, though I'll ask you guys not to get your hopes up.

I'm glad you guys like how I'm portraying Hiruzen! It was a risky move, on my part, but I feel that it's playing out nicely.

Thanks so much for the follows, favorites and reviews! They always make my day so much brighter.

Next chapter we'll meet Kozue's new team!

Cheers,

CupcakeLoopy


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